


Muggle Studies

by speculating



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, HP: EWE, Post - Deathly Hallows, probation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 11:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 195,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2506055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speculating/pseuds/speculating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a year of litigation, Lucius Malfoy has a choice - a year in Azkaban to pay for his sins, or prove he's a changed man by passing third-year Muggle Studies, the new and improved version taught by none other than the esteemed Miss Granger.  Even worse, his only son may be attracted to a Weasley.  Oh, the horror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School is In

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie, Lucius can be a bit OOC at times, but I'm working off of the extreme Woobie!Lucius we saw in Deathly Hallows, both book and film, who's sort of broken. I mix and match where I please, also, taking bits from the films and taking bits from the books, and sometimes just making things up, and not trying all that hard to keep them straight - hence the 'alternate universe' tag. Well, that and I completely ignored the epilogue, and most canonical pairings. Fred is still alive, also. I missed him too much to do without him, even though he barely appears in this story. I'll update when I can, although RL is no one's friend. In the meantime, enjoy this little...thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brand new shiny title card generously created and provided by ferryberry.

[](http://s536.photobucket.com/user/waseom/media/mugglestudies.jpg.html)

Lucius Malfoy sat on his bed with his arms folded, glaring at the man standing in his doorway.

‘I won’t do it,’ he said coldly.  ‘You can’t make me.’

Draco sighed and folded his arms, too, leaning against the door frame.

‘Would you rather serve a year in Azkaban?  That’s the alternative.  I worked very hard to get you this deal, and I wish you would have told me you didn’t mind Azkaban _before_ I did that, if you were just going to refuse to hold up your end anyway.’

‘I didn’t know it was going to be a choice between Azkaban and attending Muggle Studies classes, or I _would_ have,’ Lucius said petulantly, his lower lip poking out.

‘That won’t work on me, I _invented_ that look.’

Draco stepped out of the doorway and over to Lucius’s grand writing desk.  He began packing the bag he’d bought for his father, putting in the new Muggle Studies text, quills, ink, parchment.  Lucius watched with an unhappy scowl, and if he was acting like a child, that was nobody’s business but his own.

‘Father, it isn’t that bad,’ said Draco placatingly as he packed.  ‘Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, for one school year.  You Floo in, you Floo back home.  You do the assigned work.  If the instructor passes you, and your attendance record was good enough, you’re done.  No more classes, no more threats of Azkaban.  I think you can survive one class for one school year, and you won’t be alone.  Goyle, Sr., and Goyle, Jr., both have to do it, too.’

He dropped the bag in Lucius’s lap and put his hands on his hips.

Lucius slouched a bit.  ‘Lovely, I just adore taking classes with idiots.  Besides, whoever it is will probably fail me, and then I’ll have to go to Azkaban anyway, so can we just skip to that part?’

Draco laughed.  ‘Trust me, if you show up and put in a good effort, your professor will not fail you.  Not if I know anything about Hermione Granger, that is, and I think I do.’

Lucius blanched, eyes widening, and the bookbag fell to the floor.  ‘ _Hermione Granger_ is the Muggle Studies professor now?  Why won’t you let me go to Azkaban?  What did I ever do to you?’

Draco scooped up the bag and dropped it back in his lap.  His expression was wry.

‘Do you really want to go there?’ he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

Lucius dropped his eyes, grumbling, but he reached for his shoes anyway.

‘At the very least, they could have given us a private adult class.  I don’t fancy sitting in a room full of spotty third years for four hours every week.’

‘They could have, but the exposure to teenagers is part of what makes it a punishment, I expect,’ his son replied dryly.

At last, he managed to chivvy the reluctant Mr Malfoy down to the entrance hall fireplace, where he straightened his father’s robe and flicked a stray lock of hair back.  He was enjoying the role reversal just a little too much, which only made Lucius feel even more obstinate about the whole thing.

‘Are you sure I can’t have my cane back?’ he asked for the hundredth time since July, when the deal had been reached.  It wasn’t the cane part he wanted, of course, but the wand it concealed.  He’d bought a new one as soon as Ollivander’s reopened, only to have it confiscated by the authorities, pending his hearing.  They had given it to Draco after agreeing on this deal, and appointed Draco as his keeper.  Well, that wasn’t the term they or Draco used, but Lucius thought it most accurate.

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ said Draco in a very carefully patient tone.  ‘If you pass this class, you can have it back in June.  Now, play nice with the other kids, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  Off you go, you’re going to be late as it is, and Granger hates that.’

With one last grumble and a withering glance for good measure, Lucius Flooed to Hogwarts to begin the new and improved Muggle Studies course.

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione was standing at the front of her classroom, covering page two of the syllabus, when a tall blond figure slunk in the door and slid into the nearest desk as quickly and silently as possible, clearly trying to evade notice.  She smothered a smile, very carefully keeping her expression neutral and continuing to talk naturally as she strolled back to his desk and placed a copy of the syllabus before him.  Lucius Malfoy scowled up at her, knowing he’d been caught.  Her point was made.  Suppressing another smile, she returned to the front.

‘There will be no wands out in my classroom ever,’ she went on.  ‘You won’t need them, Muggles don’t use them, and there are no spells to be cast.  Please put them away while you are here, or I will deduct points.  Understood?’  A murmur of assent.  ‘I assign homework regularly, but it shouldn’t be as long or as difficult as your homework from your other classes.  If you have problems, seek out one of your fellow students or me.  I am always willing to help if you’ve tried it yourself first.  My office hours are on page one.  The only major items for this class are the end-of-term and end-of-year exams, and your final project, due at the end of the year, but we’ll talk more about that later.’

She went through the whole thing with them, not trusting thirteen-year-olds to read it if left to their own devices, and then fielded questions, some more worthy than others.

‘Who are the old guys?’ a chubby Gryffindor boy asked at last.

Hermione took issue with that choice of words, but ignored it for now.

‘The Messrs Goyle and Mr Malfoy are auditing this class,’ she replied evenly.  Not true, but it wasn’t really anyone else’s business.  ‘They will be joining us every time we meet, and they will participate, but they cannot gain or lose House points.’

‘Why are they auditing it?’ a Slytherin girl piped up, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Hermione smiled.  ‘Because they have been asked to.’

The patient, yet warning smile made it clear that the subject was closed, and the students moved on to other topics.

At the end of the period, Hermione asked her adult charges to stay behind and dismissed the rest of the class after assigning them to read the first chapter by Thursday.  After the teenagers had filed out, the two Goyle men sat staring at her stupidly from the second row, while Lucius glowered at her from the back.

‘As I told the children, you can’t gain or lose House points,’ she said without preamble, after putting up some privacy charms.  She didn’t trust her students _that_ much.  ‘However, I’ll be giving you a ten-point attendance and participation grade each day, and you may lose those points if you fail to be involved.’

Goyle, Jr., raised his hand and she gestured for him to speak, firmly squelching another smile.  Really, she wasn’t going to have a lower lip left by the end of the year, if these three kept making her have to bite the inside of it at the current rate.

‘What if we’re sick and can’t come?’ he asked, brow wrinkled with worry.

Hermione was surprised--that was actually a fairly intelligent question, from a Goyle.

‘If you are sick, send me a note or have someone send a note for you.  I will give you make-up work to do when you return to class.  However, I can only accept that excuse three times, unless of course you send me documentation from St Mungo’s that you’ve got something serious, like dragon pox.’

The Goyles nodded their understanding.  Lucius had turned his gaze to his desk and was apparently trying to burn a hole through his syllabus with just his glare.  It didn’t appear to be working.

Hermione sighed and brushed her wild curls back.  Apparently, getting the Malfoy patriarch’s cooperation was going to take some work.  Not that she’d expected anything less; from what Draco had told her, Lucius had spent the entire year of litigation and house arrest sulking in his room, and Narcissa divorcing him for a younger man and leaving for the Caribbean had done nothing to improve his mood.  His spirits were considerably raised from when it had been Voldemort-enforced house arrest (the Ministry wasn’t half as terrifying, and had no plans to murder Draco), but he had still been mulish and sullen.  Draco had cheerfully asserted that he much preferred his father acting like a spoilt teenager to his father acting like he was afraid of his own shadow and might literally tremble himself to pieces at any moment.  Hermione had to concede that point.

‘I’ll expect you to complete all of the assigned work, and take the exams.  You’ll have to do the final project as well.  I won’t expect any more from you than one of the students, though--I hope to make this as fair for you as possible.  Meet me halfway and I’ll help you as much as I can.  My office hours are as much open to you as they are to the students.’  Even the Goyles seemed to comprehend, their faces not too twisted with effort.  ‘Do you have any questions?’

Two shaken heads, and one blond in the back of the room who refused to acknowledge her.

‘Very well, the two of you may go.  Mr Malfoy, I require a moment more of your time.’

He slowly settled back into the seat, apparently having been ready to bolt the moment the ‘V’ left her mouth.  He stuffed the syllabus into his bag carelessly while the Goyles thumped out, then turned his icy blue glare on her.  Hermione couldn’t repress a shiver and fervently hoped he was too far away to see it.  Just in case, she walked around her desk and sat down, pulling out the grading sheet she’d carefully designed for her three adult students.  After studying it a moment, she gave each Goyle a ten for the day.

When she looked back up, she went completely rigid to stop herself from yelping and falling out of her chair.  Lucius had left his desk and was now standing before her desk, glowering, and she hadn’t heard even a whisper of cloth as he moved.  She schooled her expression to polite interest and deliberately met his gaze.  As far as she knew, he had no skill in Legilimency, and she’d spent the better part of last year becoming an Occlumens, so she wasn’t worried.

‘May I go?’ he ground out through clenched teeth.

Hermione sat back in her chair and made a show of consulting the clock on her desk.  One did not show a Slytherin just how unnerved she was, unless one wanted to hand him a weapon.  She didn’t want Lucius to have the upper hand, ever, because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was still a part of her that was terrified of him.  Even now, when the Ministry had placed him firmly at her mercy, wandless, and under Draco’s (much friendlier to her, nowadays) thumb, he still made a part of her mind scream _Run!_

‘You were seven minutes late, Mr Malfoy,’ she drawled, raising a brow at him.  ‘You owe me three more minutes.’

She could see his jaw working, his nostrils flaring, but whatever he was thinking, all he said was, ‘Very well.’  He sat back down in one of the front row seats and took out his pocket watch, ripping his gaze away from her in favour of watching the second hand tick.

Hermione took the opportunity to study him.  His robes were as fine as ever, although they didn’t hang off of him quite as well as they had before, indicating that he hadn’t regained all of the weight he’d lost from a year in Azkaban followed by a year of living in constant terror of the madman who’d taken over his home.  The Malfoys were always pale, but she didn’t think they were normally quite as pale as he appeared now.  He was clean-shaven and his platinum blond hair was so well-kept it practically glowed, but his face was more lined than she remembered, and his fingers retained a fine, barely noticeable tremor.  Even when he had towered over her just now, glaring with all his arrogant Malfoy might, there had been a _nearly_ indiscernible chink in his armour, one that hadn’t been there before.  A shadow of uncertainty behind his eyes, perhaps, or the tinge of fear when he drew in a slightly ragged breath.

Or perhaps she was just imagining that part.

‘Time’s up, Mr Malfoy.  You may go.  Please don’t be late again,’ she said as calmly as she could.

Lucius stood smoothly, snapping his pocket watch shut and tucking it away in one motion.  He straightened his robes and turned on his heel after one last glare in her direction, then imperiously lifted his head and left.

Hermione shook her head and marked down an eight for the day beside Lucius’s name.

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco jumped up from his chair with a smile and set aside his book when Lucius entered the sitting room.

‘Well?  How did it go?’ he asked cheerfully.

Lucius dropped the bookbag on the floor and slumped in a chair.  He couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Draco’s eyes.

‘She made me stay after for being late,’ he mumbled, not wanting to admit it and hoping that Draco wouldn’t hear it clearly enough to understand.

There was a second of silence, and then Draco collapsed on the sofa, having a fit of giggles.  Lucius’s scowl deepened and he sunk a little further into the chair, folding his arms.  Humiliation burned at his middle, like a lit candle in his stomach, and he hated the Granger girl more now, for making him a fool in his son’s eyes, than he had ever hated her for her blood status.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it, because she was exactly the person he had to try and be nice to, in order to avoid being sent back for another stint in Azkaban.  Despite his earlier complaints, and despite the fact that Harry bloody Potter and company had destroyed the Dementors, so it was only guarded by run-of-the-mill wizards now, Lucius very much did _not_ want to go back to Azkaban.  Memories of that place still haunted his sleep, making him gasp awake feeling like he couldn’t breathe, soaked in sweat and shaking so hard it rattled the bed.  He feared it more than anything, now that the Dark Lord was permanently dead, and in the back of his mind there whispered an unspoken thought that returning to Azkaban, even for five minutes, might actually kill him.

Finally, Draco pulled himself together, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  His face was red and splotchy.  Most unattractive, Lucius thought maliciously, then deliberately turned to look at the fire instead.  Draco could address the side of his head, if he wanted to be so uncouth.

‘Sorry, Father,’ he said, but Lucius could hear the grin in his voice, and he hiccupped to cover another giggle.  ‘It’s just….’

‘Just what?’ Lucius snapped, without looking away from the fire.  He blinked a few times; his eyes were burning oddly.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment, and the only sound was the crackling and popping of the fire.  He tried not to start when he felt Draco’s hand settle on his arm and squeeze gently, but it was so unexpected he really couldn’t help it.

‘Father?’

He tore his gaze from the fire and looked at Draco with an effort.  His son’s face was completely serious now, the remaining pink in his cheeks the only sign of his bout of laughter.

‘What should we have for dinner?’

Lucius recognised this for the concession it was, an attempt at soothing his ruffled feathers, but the fact that Draco was even offering it was comforting.  A year ago, when everything they’d been through had still been fresh, his son had barely been able to bring himself to look at Lucius, let alone caring about his feelings.  He’d been wrapped up in his own anguish, and had lashed out at Lucius frequently.

Now, he saw his father’s distress and ceased to torment him.  Lucius covered the hand on his arm with his own and squeezed back.  Draco smiled faintly.

‘Anything but that _gumbo_ concoction you let Tibby try last week,’ he said with an exaggerated shudder.

Draco’s smile widened.  ‘It wasn’t _that_ bad.’

‘It was.  I may never recover,’ he added dryly.

This time, Draco’s laugh was music to his ears, and the burn in his middle subsided just a bit.

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

‘So how did it go?’

Hermione laughed at Harry’s dubious tone.  ‘It went about as well as you’d expect.’

Harry shook his head, not breaking his rhythm of stirring whatever was in the pot Mrs Weasley had put him in charge of.

‘If Hogwarts is still standing, then I doubt that.  I expected Malfoy to burn the place down, best case scenario,’ he said, deadpan.

Ron swallowed the roll he’d sneaked hastily.  ‘Plus, you’re still alive,’ he added helpfully, ‘and in one piece.  Harry and I were waiting to get called to St Mungo’s to identify what was left of the body.’

Hermione rolled her eyes and rather viciously sliced another piece of cheese.  ‘Lucius Malfoy is not going to kill me, and he is definitely not going to burn down Hogwarts.’

‘How can you be so sure of that?’ Ginny asked in a bad fake accent, eyes narrowed and twirling an invisible moustache.

She and Ron weren’t helping Mrs Weasley prepare dinner in protest of the fact that she’d placed a moratorium on pumpkin anything in her house after _Witch Weekly_ printed a pretty suspect article about how bad it was for you.  Hermione had had to promise to look into it and prove to Mrs Weasley that it was all hogwash before she was even permitted to take her coat off.  Apparently, they couldn’t live without their pumpkin juice, not to mention pumpkin pasties and pumpkin pie, and those new pumpkin cookies from Honeyduke’s.

Hermione forebore from pointing out that if they would just find their own places to live, or at the very least, move into Grimmauld Place with Harry, they wouldn’t have this problem.  Mrs Weasley wouldn’t let them leave without having an emotional breakdown; it had been bad enough when Charlie and Bill refused to move back home.  To a certain extent, Hermione understood--the war, George’s injury in particular, and rescuing Ginny from Bellatrix, had hammered home to Mrs Weasley just how easily she could’ve lost any one of her children, and she wanted to hold them close.  However, it had been over a year now, and they were all adults.  Surely, at some point, seeing them for weekly dinners would be enough?

But that was Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and Percy’s fight, not hers.

‘First of all, Mr Malfoy is not currently permitted to carry a wand,’ she began in her teacher voice.  ‘Draco has it, and he’s promised me he’s not going to let him have it until the Ministry gives the okay.  Secondly, even if he decided to kill me in a way that doesn’t involve a wand, I could easily defend myself with _my_ wand.  Thirdly, he’s not going to kill me because he doesn’t want to go back to Azkaban, or else we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.

‘And as to him burning down Hogwarts, that would be extremely counterproductive, since he and Draco have been helping to fund the rebuilding and repair all this time.  It’s nearly finished now, so why would he want to burn it down?  That seems like a waste of money to me.’

Ron snorted, snatching another roll.  ‘The Malfoys have the money to waste.’

Hermione frowned at him.  ‘Even so, it seems like it would be rather pointless.  I don’t think he’s into arson, at any rate.’

‘ _That_ , you have a point,’ said Harry.  ‘You’re the only arsonist that I know of.’

She faked shocked outrage.  ‘Hey!  I only set Snape on fire because I was trying to save _you_!  I mean, you set _one guy_ on fire and suddenly you’re an arsonist….’

They exchanged grins, which were quickly wiped away when Mrs Weasley began shrieking upstairs.  Ron and Ginny shared grimaces.

‘Fred and George have been packing today,’ Ginny explained.  ‘She must have found out.’

They rose and left the kitchen to go help calm the matriarch down.  Harry and Hermione sighed, shaking their heads.

So much for a nice, relaxed dinner.


	2. In Case of Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the students learn why they shouldn't blow off this class, and Lucius's mood deteriorates. Draco seeks the advice of the resident know-it-all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our poor dear Lucius starts feeling a bit sorry for himself now, so you get a little of the angst and hurt/comfort I promised in the tags, and Draco's a bit clueless, I'm afraid. It may seem like it's all tied up in a nice bow, but depression isn't easily fought off by a brief snuggle, and we're far from done here, don't worry. I haven't even delivered the promised Draco/Ginny yet, but it's only chapter two, don't lose hope. Draco/Ginny is going to be a bit of a slow build, just like our main couple, though hopefully not *that* slow.

On Thursday, they discussed chapter one, ‘Outfits to Help You Recognise People in the Muggle World.’  Mostly, it was about separating mail carriers from police officers, so that if they needed help, they wouldn’t go to the wrong uniformed person.

‘Why would we ever need to know this?’ the suspicious Slytherin girl demanded.  ‘When would we ever need help from a _Muggle_?’

Hermione watched a few heads nod in agreement.  Making Muggle studies compulsory for pure-bloods and for half-blood students with limited or no exposure to the Muggle world was a good idea, but it meant she would have to put up with a lot of dug-in heels.

‘Suppose, for a moment, that you’ve Splinched yourself while Apparating,’ said Hermione, and she probably enjoyed the immediate terrified, disgusted expressions a little too much.  ‘It happened to a dear friend of mine, it could happen to you.  So hypothetically, you have Splinched yourself.  You’re in a predominantly Muggle area, because someday, you _will_ visit places besides Hogsmeade.’

There was a ripple of humour.

‘You just so happen to have Splinched off your left hand, in which you were holding your wand.’

Dead silence, and wide-eyed stares.  Hermione’s enjoyment evaporated, because this was a very serious scenario that could actually happen.  Perhaps not exactly in this manner, but it was easier than these young witches and wizards could dream for a magical person to end up wounded and wandless in unfamiliar, non-magical territory.

‘You have no wand.  You’re bleeding profusely.  You’re in too much pain to concentrate on any kind of wandless magic.  There are no fellow magical folk in sight.’  She looked directly into the Slytherin girl’s eyes.  ‘What do you do?’

The girl swallowed.  Her eyes were not narrowed with suspicion or disgust for once.  She had no answer.

Hermione released her from her gaze, looking around the room mildly.  Many of the students had paled as they imagined this scenario.

‘This class is not a joke,’ she said evenly.  ‘Even those aspects which you _think_ you won’t need, you may someday need.  You cannot predict every scenario in life.  It’s best to be prepared for all possible outcomes.’  She flicked her gaze briefly at the Slytherin girl.  ‘Your House, above all, should know that.’

The girl’s head lowered, and Hermione strolled back in front of her chalkboard.  She was smiling when she turned back around, and inadvertently looked straight into Lucius Malfoy’s piercing gaze.  He wasn’t glaring, for once, she noted, he looked interested.  She blinked him out of her sight, focusing elsewhere.

‘On a milder note, you should use this class as an opportunity to understand where your Muggle-born and Muggle-raised classmates are coming from,’ she went on, more chipper now.  ‘As we get deeper into various subjects, such as how to use Muggle appliances and how to use the Tube, try to put yourself in their place and imagine what it was like to grow up surrounded by these things.  I think you’ll find that they found the Wizarding world as disorienting as you find the Muggle world.’

Goyle, Sr., spoke up for the first time that Hermione could recall in her whole life.  ‘Why?’

She smiled brighter.  ‘Understanding one another might help ward off another conflict like the one we all just went through.’

It went completely silent.  Hermione just kept smiling, let the moment stretch.  The chubby Gryffindor boy coughed.  A Ravenclaw girl sniffled.

‘Now that we’ve got that cleared up, were there any questions about this chapter?’  Silence again.  ‘Okay, then, your assignment for Tuesday is to write four inches on the identifying characteristics of Muggle police officers, firefighters, and emergency workers as covered in the chapter, and also read chapters two and three.’

The Ravenclaw girl pushed up her glasses and raised her hand.  ‘When are we going to talk about the final project?’

‘I’ll have a rubric for you on Tuesday, and we’ll talk about it then.’

A few others got brave and asked questions, and they were nearing the end of the class when, unexpectedly, Lucius raised his hand.  He did it casually, almost carelessly, but she thought there was still tension in his frame.

‘Yes, Mr Malfoy?’

He slowly lowered his hand and drew in a breath.  ‘The scenario you illustrated before.’

Hermione twitched involuntarily.  His voice was smooth as silk, just like she remembered, when he wasn’t growling through clenched teeth.

‘What about it?’

‘What would _you_ do?’

The entire class looked up at her, one hundred percent interested and focused.  She kept her eyes on Lucius’s.  They were still icy blue, cold chips, but now they almost seemed to glow as he waited for her answer.

‘What would _I_ do if I was Splinched and wandless in Muggle territory?’  A pause.  ‘I would evaluate my surroundings to see if I knew where I was.  If I did, then I would know where to go to get help.’

‘And if you didn’t?’

Hermione wondered how much of Lucius’s respect she’d gain if she answered correctly, if any.

‘If I didn’t know where I was, then I would see if there were any police officers around, or any passersby at all.  They could be approached for aid.  If I was alone, I would try to find someone who was home, or a telephone booth.  They’re red and they say “telephone” on them.  I always carry a little Muggle money on me in case of emergency.  If you do happen to find a telephone, you dial 999 for emergency.’  She swallowed.  ‘We’ll cover this all on Tuesday, in chapter two.’

Lucius nodded, breaking their eye contact, and she couldn’t tell if she’d satisfied him or not.

‘I’ll see you all on Tuesday.  Class dismissed.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco wasn’t home yet when Lucius got back, so he wandered to his room and shut the door.  He really ought to actually read chapter one, now that he had an essay to write.

Lucius, Lord of Malfoy Manor and writer of four-inch essays on how to spot a Muggle police officer.

His lip curled at his own thoughts and he took out his textbook for the first time.  Draco had bought it, Draco had put it on his desk, and Draco had packed it for him.  He hadn’t touched it, hadn’t even looked at it.

_A Beginner’s Guide to the Muggle World_ by Hermione Granger.  Including an emergency survival guide for the stranded wizard in the first five chapters, according to the bright red oval in the top right corner.

He shoved it away and pulled out the crumpled syllabus.  So far, Granger was following it exactly.  Apparently, announcing the homework was done for the benefit of those who’d lost their copy, because even the four-inch essay was on here, with due date, as well as the dates each chapter was meant to be read by.  Technically speaking, he could read the whole book and do all of the essays.

Lucius got up and paced, wishing desperately for a glass of something alcoholic.  Draco had locked up all of the alcohol back in January, when he finally noticed the state his father was in.  That is, that Lucius tried his best to be completely out-of-his-mind drunk at all times.  Draco had even instructed the house elves not to let him have any, no matter what he said or did, and they obeyed Draco much more easily than they did him, nowadays.  Draco said it was a tip he’d got from Granger and Potter--something about being nice to them and saying please and thank you.

He sat back at the desk with a muttered curse.  ‘The whole world’s gone insane.’

Nobody answered him, so he studiously opened his textbook and began reading chapter one.  He didn’t have to like it, he just had to do it.

After he’d read ‘Outfits to Help You Recognise People in the Muggle World,’ ‘Muggle Emergency Services and How to Reach Them,’ and ‘The Muggle Methods for Surviving Injuries,’ he wrote the stupid essay and shoved it all back into his bag.  Now he wouldn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the week-end.

Then he got out a calendar and carefully starred September 1 before crossing it off.  He crossed off each day up until today from there, and then he began counting.  He counted each and every day until June 6, which he also drew a star on.  It was the day of the end-of-year exam in Muggle Studies, and the last day before he would finally be free.

There were 280 days.  9 months, 6 days.  He’d already lived through nine of them, so 271 days left to go.  (Granger thought starting class on a Thursday, just to jump into a weekend, was stupid, and had sent them all a letter stating that their attendance had been taken for granted and counted already.  He didn’t know if she told the students the same thing, but either way, the first day of _her_ class had been the Tuesday of the following week.)

He included week-ends, and days he didn’t have to go to class, because he still had to do the work outside of class, and he still couldn’t have his wand, and he still couldn’t leave his own bloody house except to go to Hogwarts.

Lucius pressed his fingers into his eyes until the burning sensation went away.  He couldn’t help a slightly hitched breath, though, and hated himself when he heard it echo in the still bedroom.

The door banged open.

‘Father?  Let’s go have dinner!  I have loads to tell you!’

‘Don’t you know how to knock?’

Draco only grinned and tugged on his arm.  ‘I know how.’

‘Try doing it sometime.’

He allowed himself to be dragged downstairs anyway.

‘Why?  If you didn’t want me to come in, you’d lock it.’

He was shoved into a chair with exuberance, and he could only sigh and shake his head as his son bounced around the room with energy he thought only house elves possessed.

‘Tibby is making some kind of stew.  I don’t know what it is, but I’ll bet it’s good,’ he went on, with selective memory regarding Tibby’s cooking experiments, as far as Lucius was concerned.  ‘So much happened at the Ministry today, you wouldn’t believe….’

Draco chattered on and on and on.  Lucius poked at his food when it arrived and tried to give appropriate responses where required.  There was a lot of drama at the Ministry, and it made Lucius momentarily grateful that he didn’t have to put up with it anymore.  Eventually, though, Draco said something of interest.

Apparently, Draco was being recruited to help with a new project, spearheaded by Granger.

‘Doesn’t she have enough on her hands?’ Lucius asked bitterly, and spat out a piece of celery into his napkin.  It wasn’t dignified, perhaps, but celery was the worst thing ever, and he only ate it when he couldn’t get away with spitting it back out upon discovering it.

What’s more, the blasted elves _knew_ he hated it.  He idly tried to think of what he’d done recently that might have offended them.

‘That’s disgusting, Father,’ said Draco offhandedly.  ‘I don’t think Hermione is capable of being “too busy.”  Besides, you’ll like this project.  You know how she and that Brocklehurst girl pitched the idea of a magical preparatory school so that kids would actually know math and English when they arrive at Hogwarts, and Brocklehurst is starting it up, due to open next year?  Well, apparently, while they were designing that idea, Brocklehurst said something to Hermione that got her thinking.  It’s a splendid idea, actually.’

Lucius looked down at his bowl and put his spoon down.  He wasn’t eating this, he’d rather starve.  Perhaps it was when he called Tibby a cloth-headed ninny muggins yesterday?  That had been a mild insult, almost comedic, in fact, and he hadn’t really meant it.

‘It’s a companion course to Muggle Studies.’

He flinched at the very name, but Draco didn’t notice, just nattered on cheerfully.

‘The students who aren’t required to take Muggle Studies would be required to take Wizarding Studies, you see?  Hermione and I are designing it together.  It’s meant to help integrate Muggle-borns into pure-blood traditions and society, so they won’t offend people, or touch things they oughtn’t to touch and get cursed, or old legends every wizard child knows from nappies, or things like that, that Hermione tells me we purebloods take for granted.  Isn’t that a wonderful idea?’

‘Wonderful,’ Lucius echoed hollowly.  ‘May I go back to my room now?’

Draco seemed to look at him for the first time since he’d arrived.  His brow creased with concern, and Lucius scowled to try to alleviate it.  It didn’t appear to work.

‘You’ve barely touched your dinner,’ he said gently.  ‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘I hate celery,’ said Lucius, and tipped his bowl so Draco could see that he’d eaten everything except the celery, which appeared to be more than half of its total contents.  ‘I don’t want it.’

Draco’s nose wrinkled.  ‘I like celery, but that’s...excessive.  What did you do to Tibby?’

Lucius shrugged, letting the bowl drop.  ‘I called her a cloth-headed ninny muggins.’

Draco blinked.  ‘What’s a cloth-headed ninny muggins, and why did you call her one?’

‘I don’t know, and she moved my shaving kit.  I couldn’t find it.’

His son sighed at him and sat back.  ‘You should apologise to her-- _I_ moved it.  I borrowed yours because my razor broke and I didn’t have time to repair it before I left yesterday.’

‘Oh.’

Lucius looked away, let his eyes unfocus and his gaze wander where it would, because he was tired and he didn’t want to deal with trying to swallow enough of his pride to apologise to a house elf right now.

Another sigh.  ‘I’ll talk to her and see if I can’t get her to bring you something else later.  You should apologise sometime this week-end, though.’

He nodded marginally.  ‘May I go back to my room now?’ he repeated, softly, defeated.

He wasn’t in control of anything.  Draco controlled the house elves, Draco controlled the manor and their finances.  Draco controlled their interests, and their potions supply business.  Draco even maintained the wards on the manor, because Lucius couldn’t, and Draco was the one who went to the Ministry and had power and did things and helped decide the course of their world.

Lucius wrote essays about the helmets police officers wore because Draco and a Muggle-born said he had to, and he had to apologise to his own house elves to get them to feed him properly.

‘If you want to,’ Draco replied after a long moment.

Lucius nodded once and left.  Back in his room, he climbed into bed, pulled the covers over his head, and pretended that his room was the only world that existed.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione, Harry and Crookshanks were lazing in front of the fire in Hermione’s sitting room after a lovely dinner when the flames turned green and Draco Malfoy’s head appeared, his brow creased with worry.

‘Draco?’

‘Hermione, Harry,’ he greeted, seeming relieved just to see them.  A year ago, that would have been insane.  ‘Can I come through?’

‘Sure.’

He stepped out and did a quick cleaning charm on himself--Malfoys did not go around covered in soot, he had informed them once, a touch of his old arrogant snobbery in his voice.

‘What’s the matter?’ Harry demanded.  ‘Are you all right?’

Draco sat next to Crookshanks--or rather, in front of Crookshanks, perched on the edge of the chair, because the half-Kneazle was in no mood to move.

‘Yes, I’m fine, I...um, actually, I came to talk to Hermione.’

Harry frowned.  ‘If it’s about your dad, I’m over it.  Or didn’t you get that when I testified that he didn’t have a wand at all that year?’

Draco’s features relaxed slightly.  ‘Well, then, yes, it’s about my father.’

Hermione sat up.  ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing’s _happened_ , exactly, it’s just...I’m worried about him, and I don’t know what to do,’ he said helplessly.

She looked bewildered.  ‘Why come to me about it?’

Draco flailed a hand.  ‘Well, you’re, you know, you’re a _girl._ Girls are good at, uh, feelings, and, uh, things.’  He bit his lip.  ‘I’m not good at it at all.’

Harry raised a brow.  ‘I’m marking this day down in my calendar.’

‘Oh, shut up, Harry.  What are you doing here, anyway?’

Harry shrugged and was not sheepish at all.  ‘Avoiding Mrs Weasley by having dinner with Hermione instead.  Fred and George are moving out, and she’s having hysterics.’

‘Oh.’  He ran a hand through his hair.  ‘I can see avoiding that.’

Hermione sighed.  ‘What’s wrong enough with your father that you need help with it?  I thought you said you two were doing better.’

Draco made another helpless gesture and got up to pace.  ‘I _thought_ we were, but tonight I felt like we were back to square one again!  I got home and he was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, and at dinner, he barely spoke at all.  He didn’t even want to look at me!  And he was upset because he apparently called Tibby a cloth-headed ninny muggins--’

‘A what?’ said Harry, wrinkling his nose.

The blond waved an impatient hand.  ‘He insulted her and accused her of moving his shaving kit, because he didn’t know that I borrowed it, and now she keeps making him celery, which she knows he hates, so he barely had anything to eat at dinner.  I asked him to apologise to her, but he hasn’t done it.  And then when he was finished he asked me if he could go back to his room.   _Asked_ me.’

He stopped pacing and looked at them, and even Harry seemed to understand how uncharacteristic it was for Lucius Malfoy to ask permission to do anything, let alone to ask his own son permission.

‘That’s...not good,’ Hermione summed up.

‘No kidding.’  Draco sat on the ottoman, since Crookshanks had stretched to encompass the entire seat.  ‘What do I do?  What is _wrong_ with him?’

She thought for a moment, trying to see the world through Lucius Malfoy’s eyes.  It was no easy task, and when she finally reconnected with reality, she still didn’t know exactly what his problem was.  He was too different from her.  However, she had an educated guess.

‘Well,’ she said slowly.  ‘First of all, I think you should feed him.  If he’s full of a nice, warm, celery-less dinner, his outlook will improve.’

Draco pouted.  ‘I tried to talk to Tibby, she won’t make him anything that isn’t chock full of celery until he apologises for the false accusation.’

Hermione cocked her head.  ‘What _does_ he like?’

His brow crinkled.  ‘Are you asking what my father’s favourite food is?’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘Maybe not _favourite_ , but something that he’ll eat.  We just had roast beef with green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and rolls and orange marmalade.  We’ve got enough leftovers to last three weeks.  Would he eat that?’

He pondered.  ‘Yes, I think so.  I think he’ll eat anything, as long as it’s not celery.’

‘No celery, I promise.’

‘What is his problem?’ Harry broke in.  ‘Celery is delicious.  Particularly with peanut butter and raisins on it.’

Hermione shot him a quelling look, and he subsided.

‘Let’s forget about the celery, okay?  Did your father say anything else?’

Draco thought for a long moment, then shook his head.  ‘Not really.  Like I said, he didn’t speak much at all.  I did most of the talking,’ he added sheepishly.  ‘I was really excited about our project, and I’m afraid I got a little carried away.’

‘Hmm.’

She got up and went to the kitchen, assembling a plate and reheating its contents until they steamed.  When she emerged with the plate (covered and protected for Floo travel), both boys looked up at her in unison, wearing expressions like hopeful puppies.  She smiled inwardly.

‘I think,’ she began slowly, ‘that you should put your father in charge of something.’

She sat down and extended the plate.  Draco accepted it with a look of confusion.

‘In charge of what?’

She shrugged.  ‘Something.  Anything.  Some little thing that won’t get either of you in trouble, but will make him feel like he’s useful for something.’

The word ‘useful’ made comprehension dawn for Harry and his face smoothed.  Draco remained confused, but he was at least listening.

‘Also, I think you should ask him to help you with our project.  His input could be helpful, and I think it would mean a lot to him if you asked him for advice and ideas,’ she added softly.

Draco rose, his face still twisted slightly.  ‘If you think it’ll work….  I still have no idea what I could put him in charge of, though.  He isn’t allowed to have a wand, and he isn’t allowed to leave except to go to Hogwarts, so that puts a damper on a lot of things.’

‘You’ll think of something,’ Hermione said confidently.

‘I hope so,’ came the doubtful reply, and then Draco was gone in a flash of green fire.

Harry frowned.  ‘I never thought that the news of one of the Malfoys being depressed would make me upset.  Maybe I’m coming down with something.’

Hermione swatted him with a decorative pillow.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had fallen asleep at some point, and he was having a nightmare about Azkaban again.  The walls were closing in and water was getting in and there was a Dementor waiting for him at the top of his cell, so he could either drown, be crushed by the walls, or have his soul sucked out, and he didn’t want to do any of those things, he wanted to live, but he couldn’t find a way out, and even though he knew he was dreaming, he couldn’t wake up--

‘Father!’

He snapped awake when a hand closed on his shoulder, gasping and shaking all over.  Draco was looking down at him with worry painted across his features.

‘Are you all right?’

Lucius blinked and tried to relax, but the panic hadn’t quite subsided yet, and he couldn’t stop shaking.

‘I was in Azkaban and I was going to die,’ he blurted in a rush.

Draco’s face melted into a softer emotion.  ‘Oh...Father….’

Then he grabbed Lucius into a hug that he was too surprised to resist.  Instead, he lay limply on Draco’s shoulder, feeling Draco’s arms around him, and just breathed until his heartbeat began to settle.

‘Do you have that dream often?’ Draco asked, when Lucius’s breathing was calmer.

Lucius hesitated, then mumbled into his shoulder, ‘Almost every night.  Usually no one wakes me up, and I drown.’

‘You drown?’

‘The cell is flooding and the walls are closing in and there’s a Dementor above me, but there’s no way out, so I have to choose how to die,’ said Lucius, squeezing his eyes shut against the images until all he could see was bright flashes on the inside of his eyelids.  ‘I always pick drowning.’

A long silence fell, and Draco absently began rubbing circles on his back.

‘I wish you’d told me.’

‘Why?’

Draco hesitated.  ‘I would wake you up.  Before….’

Lucius pulled out of the hug, sat back against the headboard, wrapped his arms around himself.

‘Then you wouldn’t be able to sleep,’ he pointed out.  ‘You have important things to do, you need your rest.’  He tried to sound confident.  ‘Besides, I can handle it.  I’m not weak.’

Draco looked sad.  ‘No, you’re not.’  He reached over and picked something up from the nightstand.  ‘I brought you something,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful.

It was a plate, a plate full of steaming food.  Draco handed over utensils when he saw Lucius’s stare turn hungry.

‘Where did you get this?’ Lucius asked between bites.  ‘It’s delicious.’

Draco smiled.  ‘I went to a friend’s house.  She had leftovers.  Tibby won’t cook you anything good until you apologise, I’m afraid.’

Lucius froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.  ‘You mean Granger, don’t you?  She’s the friend?’

Hesitantly, Draco nodded.  ‘I didn’t want to go near the Weasleys.  Apparently, Molly has turned into a raging tornado of emotion.’

Lucius considered throwing the plate, and a fit of temper right along with it, but it just didn’t seem worth the energy.  Besides, he was hungry, starving even, and it really was delicious.

He continued eating without further comment.

Draco let out a breath of relief, and talked softly of unimportant things until Lucius had finished eating.  When he went back to sleep this time, he felt better, and he didn’t dream, at least not that he remembered.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione spent her week-end hosting various Weasleys.  Ron and Ginny used her place as a hideout on Friday night, while Percy needed somewhere to lie low on Saturday, when he mentioned that he’d be moving out soon as well.  Arthur spent Sunday morning sleeping on her couch, apparently too exhausted to put up with any further emotional turmoil, and then the twins had their moving-out celebratory dinner at her place, since Grimmauld Place was still rather creepy (although it had grown on Harry) and Mrs Weasley didn’t see any reason to celebrate the occasion.

Harry popped in and out from time to time, generally to laugh at her, since only Ron and Ginny spent any length of time in Grimmauld Place, which was where they’d fled to once Mrs Weasley figured out where they were.  Hermione responded by presenting him with her grocery bill, which rather effectively shut him up.

Draco appeared again on Monday night, looking tired but somewhat more pleased than he had on Thursday night.

‘Well?’ she prompted, once he’d come through and cleaned up.

‘The week-end went pretty well,’ he said cautiously.  ‘After I cheered him back up on Friday night, and after I finally got him to apologise to Tibby.  She’d progressed to putting celery sticks in place of his toothbrush and quills on Friday, and he must have decided enough was enough.’

Hermione smiled a little.  ‘Cheered him _back up_?’

Draco sat, frowning and agitatedly running his hands through his hair.  ‘He was alone all day.  I think when he’s alone with his thoughts, he works himself into a depression all over again.  Today, I had him writing down his ideas of what he would want a Muggle-born to know about Wizarding society, so I think that kept him busy enough that he wasn’t thinking about his situation too much.’

‘Yet you seem upset,’ Hermione pointed out.

He sighed.  ‘I asked him if he would mind being in charge of the indoor plants, and he told me to stop patronising him and slammed a door in my face.’

Hermione could totally imagine that happening.  ‘Your father is a proud man.  He saw the request for what it was.’

‘Which means putting him in charge of anything isn’t going to happen, because everything else requires him to be able to leave the premises and/or have a wand.’

She frowned, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.  That was a problem, especially because she suspected that the root of Lucius’s moods was the fact that he’d gone from being one of the most powerful men in Wizarding Britain to being utterly under his son’s control, with no say in anything.  He was still in his prime, and that had to hurt.  What’s more, he had to complete assignments set by her, a Muggle-born he hated, and that, too, had to sting.

‘It’s only for a year,’ she said at last.  ‘Term has barely begun, surely he can last until June?’

Draco snorted.  ‘268 days, according to my father.  And I hope so.  I feel like, if I can get him through the beginning part, he’ll make it to the end.  But that isn’t his only problem.’

Hermione listened with growing concern as Draco recounted what Lucius had said about his nightmares, and Draco’s own experience of the stand-offish, proud man actually allowing himself to be hugged and coddled for a moment because he was so shaken up.

‘Now he won’t let me help,’ Draco concluded.  ‘He barricades his door at night by locking it and putting his desk in front of it.  He says I need my sleep, but how am I supposed to sleep when I know he’s screaming himself awake at nights?  When I pointed that out, he said I should put up a Silencing Charm, and that most of the time he _gasps_ himself awake.  Like that’s supposed to make me feel better,’ he added darkly.

‘And you offered him Dreamless Sleep?’

Draco nodded.  ‘Of course.  He says he has the nightmares almost every night, so he would definitely get addicted to the potion before long.’

‘A valid point.’

Hermione chewed her lip, deep in thought.  She found it oddly sweet that Draco apparently hadn't even considered the fact that he was a wizard, and could therefore easily unlock Lucius's door and blast the desk out of the way, but wisely chose not to mention it.

Draco clutched the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t wring his hands.  Crookshanks woke up and began bathing himself.

She saw an opportunity to test a theory.

‘You said that being alone is what does it?  Do you think he’d like company?’

Draco shot her a puzzled look.  ‘You mean like a dog?’

She clamped down on a not-very-flattering retort, and answered when she was sure all thoughts of Draco’s _usually_ high intelligence were tucked away.

‘No, I mean like fellow human beings.  People he can talk to.  Sneer at, if necessary.’

He blinked.  ‘What kind of people?  Everyone we know works.’

‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t come over sometimes.  Why don’t you start a weekly dinner tradition?  We all eat at the Weasleys’ on Tuesdays, when Mrs Weasley isn’t freaking out, and we eat at Harry’s on Wednesdays.  Why can’t the Malfoys’ be Thursday nights?  It might cheer him up after a long week, and you could invite some of your other friends.’

Draco snorted.  ‘What other friends?  Half of my friends went to Azkaban because it turned out they were murderously evil, and the other half weren’t really my friends.  The same goes for my father.  I don’t think he writes to anyone; even I at least correspond with Goyle and Nott.’

She poked his knee.  ‘Don’t invite anyone else then.  Come on, what about it?  It could be fun for you, too, you know.’

‘Do I have to invite Longbottom and Loony, too?’

‘ _Every_ one,’ she insisted with a smile.  She knew she had him.

Sure enough, he sighed and rose from his chair.  ‘All right, fine.  At the very least, he might _explode_ out of his depression when he sees his house full of Weasleys.’

Hermione grinned.  ‘That’s the spirit!’

Draco shook his head at her and left.

The invitations arrived within the hour.


	3. The Power of Being Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius has a little fun at Hermione's expense, and Draco overreacts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have Lucius being a bit mood-swingy and kind of a diva, and Draco being a bit thick. Mostly, this is setup for the next chapter, but I hope you have fun with it anyway--it was certainly fun to write!

Lucius found himself oddly looking forward to going to class later, much as he tried to squelch the feeling.  He had been a good student, in his youth, and the familiar feeling of being well-prepared was with him this time.  Plus, he got to leave the house for a while.  The sight of hordes of spotty teenagers was not a pleasant one, to be sure, but at least it was something different.

Most of all, though, he was looking forward to hearing what Granger would say next, despite his attempts to stir up the anger he’d felt toward her last week.  He hadn’t expected the scenario she spun for them, and he’d been impressed with how she got her point across.  The multiple plans she had spelled out when he questioned her had been, by her own admission when she reprimanded that snotty brat, bordering on Slytherin.  He hadn’t expected a Gryffindor, however intelligent, to have multiple contingencies mapped out, however shaky.

And…the girl could cook.

He reviewed all three chapters and read chapter four, rewrote his essay, rearranged everything in his chest of drawers, and finally sat in the sitting room, staring at the clock and bouncing his knee.  It beat lying around moping, which only gained him unwanted attention.

Draco had clearly been surprised and relieved at his changed attitude at breakfast, enough that he didn’t tarry too long before heading to work this time.  Lucius was glad about that, too.  His son had been positively mother henning him since Thursday night, clucking and fussing over him, and while he was glad to know Draco cared, it made him uncomfortable.

Especially the offer to let him take over the care of their potted plants from the house elves.  He hadn’t been able to control his temper then, which had fortunately resulted in Draco dropping the subject altogether.  He refused to accept their pity, their charity.  He ground his teeth and fumed at the very idea.  It would only be 267 days, and he would have his wand back, and so help him he would curse anyone who pitied him during his probation.  He would  _ not _ allow himself another moment of weakness.

The half hour struck, and Lucius jumped to his feet and headed for the entrance hall to Floo out.  He wanted to get there early so he could have his seat in the back, nearest the door.

When he arrived, Granger was sitting at her desk, scribbling something.  Probably grading.  She looked up briefly and offered him a distracted smile when she heard the door.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius nodded back, getting out his supplies.  ‘Granger.’

She didn’t correct him and tell him to call her miss or professor, just smiled again and resumed her scribbling.  He took the opportunity to observe her.

Granger had been eighteen the last time he saw her in person, in the Great Hall after the battle.  She had almost been a woman, still a little soft around the edges, the fading remnants of adolescent awkwardness hanging around her yet.  Now she was twenty, or would be soon.  Draco had mentioned shopping for a birthday present for her, and a birthday party being planned in secret, but Lucius hadn’t cared enough to catch the date.

There was no hint of adolescence about her now.  She moved with certainty, carried herself with the graceful ease of someone who knew herself and was comfortable in her skin.  When she met his eyes, he sensed none of the insecurity she had broadcasted as a child.

Otherwise, she hadn’t changed much at all.  She still had freckles and bushy hair.  She still had slight knock knees and a nearly flat chest.  The real difference was internal--as a teen, she had been ashamed, but as an adult, she accepted and owned her body, flaws and beauty together, producing a confidence and inner calm in place of her former restless energy.

Lucius scowled at his thoughts.  Good for her, but she was still an annoying, holier-than-thou goody-two-shoes.  That hadn’t changed.

Students began trickling in and Granger stood and started writing on the board.

‘Final Project

Written assignment

Oral presentation’

Several students groaned when she stepped away from the board.  Granger clasped her hands and smiled that polite little smile that always meant something else underneath.  If he had to hazard a guess, he would say she was hiding a smug smirk this time.  It was another Slytherin aspect of her that Lucius found himself appreciating.

She had the bespectacled Ravenclaw girl pass out copies of the rubric, and then began to speak.

‘Before you all start panicking, I must remind you that these are not due until the end of the school year.  You have two whole terms to work on this, so please breathe.’

A couple of gasps sounded from the small Gryffindor section of the room as they realised that air was important.  Lucius smirked--so much for bravery.

‘We will spend the last two weeks before the final exam listening to each of your presentations.  You must choose a topic to present and clear it with me by the midterm.  No duplicate topics, and I would recommend that you skim the textbook to see what we’ll be learning.

‘Think of some questions you have about the Muggle world--many of your questions would make good topics for a lengthy paper and an oral presentation.  If you need help, either thinking of a topic or narrowing down to one, don’t hesitate to come and see me.  I would be happy to help.  Both paper and presentation should be informational only--we’re not trying to prove or disprove anything.’

She moved on to discussing the chapters they were to have read after going over the rubric.  Lucius let his mind drift toward the idea of a question, his eyes idly tracking Granger’s wild bushy hair as she paced back and forth lecturing.  He’d never wondered anything about Muggles.  To him, they had always been unworthy of consideration, like an ant or a mouse--pests to be squashed, nothing more.  Granger really ought to do something about that hair.  Didn’t women have potions and tonics for that sort of thing?  Lucius personally used a smoothing tonic.

He supposed he sometimes wondered about the Muggle world in general terms.  What sort place produced some of the rudest, most sloppy wizards he’d ever met, yet also produced those like Granger, who were only offensive because they tried so hard to prove they belonged that he ended up wanting to hex them into oblivion?  Rather difficult to write a paper about that, though, particularly since he wanted her to give him a passing mark.

‘Homework for Thursday is to read chapter five, and to write five inches outlining how to contact the Ministry of Magic using purely Muggle means.  Please place your scrolls on my desk before you leave!’ she added, raising her voice to be heard over the students packing up.

Lucius took his time packing up his own supplies; he had no desire to be caught in the crush of slimy-faced teenagers.  When he finally rose and sauntered up to her desk, scroll in hand, they were once again alone.  She turned from erasing the board and barely halted her forward momentum in time to stop herself from crashing into him.  She reared back, the height difference between them forcing her to tilt her head back.  Lucius suppressed a smile, breathing in her nervousness--it was only there for a second before she mastered herself, but he’d seen the flicker of fear in her eyes, in the flare of her nostrils.  It was only a second, but for that brief tick, he’d had  _ power  _ again, over her, who always seemed so calm and unaffected, and he drank it in.

He would have to try to catch her off-guard more often.

Hermione stepped to the side, out from between him and the board.  Another sign that he’d thrown her off balance.  He extended the scroll toward her with a polite smile; she took it slowly.

‘You could have left it on the desk, like everyone else,’ she said, and her voice was too perfectly even to be natural.

Lucius tilted his head a touch, maintaining the smile.  ‘I wished to ensure it did not become…misplaced.’

The slight narrowing of her dark eyes told him that his innocent tone hadn’t fooled her.  His smile widened.

_ Delicious. _

‘Good day, Miss Granger.’

He whirled and left without waiting for a response.

Draco was preparing to leave when he appeared back in the manor’s entrance hall.

‘Father, Harry has invited me to have dinner at the Burrow--I’ve already spoken to Tibby, and--’  He did a double take.  ‘What are you smirking about?’

Lucius removed his cloak with a theatrical snap. ‘Oh, nothing.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘What have you been doing?  Have you been giving Hermione a hard time?’

Lucius felt an irrational urge to rub his hands together while cackling maniacally, but restrained himself with an effort.  Such behaviour was hardly dignified.

' _ Father… .   _ These people are my friends, you can’t treat them that way anymore!’

His smirk collapsed into a scowl, his good mood sliding away even as he tried to clasp it close.  Draco’s expression was full of worry and upset, but not for him.  His son’s hands fluttered over his head like dying white birds as he resisted the urge to run them through his coiffure.

‘It was just a bit of fun,’ Lucius grumbled, dropping his eyes to the marble floor and his own hands clenching into fists at his sides.

‘Father!’ Draco half-shrieked, exasperated, ignoring Lucius’s automatic cringe.  ‘Do you  _ want  _ her to fail you?!’

He made an incoherent noise, and didn’t give Lucius a chance to respond.

‘Well, I  _ was  _ going to go to the Burrow and try to strengthen my network with some of Harry’s other friends, but now, I guess I’ll be spending the whole time with Hermione, doing a little  _ damage control . _ ’

He disappeared with a pop, and Lucius stood blinking at the empty space he left behind.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that all was not well in the world of Draco Malfoy.  He’d stormed into the house from the Apparition point in a flurry of robes and gone straight to Arthur to formally thank him and apologise for his tardiness.  He followed this up by skulking in a corner with Percy, of all people, and didn’t even smile when the twins tried out one of their new products on Ron, who could only spit chicken feathers when he tried to talk for the next hour.

He was avoiding Ginny like the plague, which wasn’t unusual, but he was also avoiding Hermione, which was.  He looked away when she tried to catch his eye, and she decided that enough was enough.  She cornered him in the kitchen toward the end of the evening, as he was preparing to leave.

‘Draco, if you run out that door when you know perfectly well I followed you to talk to you, I’ll never forgive you,’ she said as haughtily as she could manage.  Sometimes the only way to deal with a Malfoy was to act like a Malfoy (e.g., that you thought you were cooler than everyone else in the whole world, which was only arguably true).

He turned to face her looking like he’d just eaten something extremely spicy.

‘I wasn’t,’ he mumbled, hunching his shoulders.

Hermione raised a brow.  ‘Sure, you weren’t.  You haven’t been avoiding me, either, I suppose.  What seems to be the problem, Draco?  Whatever it is, I’d much prefer you just tell me so I can fix it.’

Draco blinked, his mouth gaping most unattractively.  ‘ _ You  _ didn’t do anything!  Aren’t you angry?’

She frowned.  ‘That…you’re avoiding me?’

His shoulders dropped and she got the distinct impression that she’d just said something incredibly stupid.

‘What?’

‘Aren’t you angry after whatever my father did to you today?’ Draco said, enunciating slowly and clearly.

‘Um…angry that he implied I might accidentally-on-purpose lose his homework?  Or angry that he scared the bejeezus out of me by sneaking up behind me?’  She paused.  ‘I was a little annoyed at first, but he seemed to be having so much fun razzing me that I really didn’t mind too much.  Although I wish he could get his jollies without insulting my professional integrity, but I think I’ll live.’

Draco blinked.  And blinked again.  ‘And that’s it?’

Hermione was now more confused than ever.  ‘Um, yes?  Your father came to class, sat quietly and attentively, waited until everyone else left the classroom before sneaking up behind me so that he scared the bejeezus out of me when I turned around, handed me his homework, implied that I would purposely lose it, and then left.  It was actually one of the most pleasant interactions we’ve ever had, given that he didn’t call me any names or make snide remarks about my blood status.  He even called me “ _ Miss _ Granger” instead of just “Granger” like he has been for the past year or so, on the rare occasions we saw each other.  So, yes, I would mark that down as one of my favourite Lucius Malfoy conversations.’

Draco raised a brow.

‘If I ever had to make a list of them, definitely in the top five.  Not that anyone’s asked me for a list.  If you don’t stop me, I’m just going to keep talking.’

He chuckled and looked away for a moment.  ‘I have noticed that tendency.  I thought Harry was exaggerating.’

Hermione smiled.  ‘No, it’s the sad truth.’

He started to smile back, but then his expression momentarily froze and he groaned.

‘Oh, no….’

She frowned, stepping forward in concern.  ‘What is it?’

He fidgeted, suddenly looking very guilty.  ‘I, uh…sort of…yelled at Father.  About not treating my friends like a Death Eater would treat them anymore.’

Hermione gaped at him for a second.  ‘Draco!’

‘Well?!  What was I supposed to think when he came home all giddy and evil-looking?  He stopped just short of twirling his moustache!  If he had a moustache, which he doesn’t.  You  _ know _ what I  _ mean _ .  He was acting like he’d done something truly, deliciously horrible to you.’

She folded her arms, eyebrows raised.  ‘And what exactly did you think he’d done to me, when I have a wand and he doesn’t?  There’s only so much Lucius can do right now.’

Draco fidgeted again.  ‘I didn’t think about it, I just saw his face and kind of assumed….  I need to go home and try to talk to him.  If he’ll let me.’

‘You mean apologise.’

‘No, I mean try to convince him that it was really his fault all along anyway, so he should be apologising to me.’  He smirked at the look on her face, lifting his chin.  ‘It’s the Malfoy way.’

She sighed, defeated, waving an exasperated hand.  ‘Okay, the  _ Malfoy _ version of apologising to him.  Tomayto, tomahto.’

He grinned and left with a courtly bow.  She heard the pop of his Disapparation and shook her head.

‘Men.  Malfoy men, to be specific.’

‘They are the worst, aren’t they?’ said Ginny, who entered just in time to hear Draco Disapparate.  ‘Draco knew damned well I was coming in here to talk to him.  I’m going to get that ferret alone if it’s the last thing I do, and you won’t recognise him when I’m through.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

After Draco left, Lucius had spent a good fifteen minutes pouting at a wall, convinced that life was extremely unfair only to him, and that everyone else in the whole world had it easy.  Particularly his ex-wife, who he could just imagine lounging on some sunny beach, while he wasn’t even allowed to walk in his own gardens, lest he  _ miraculously _ find a way to get through the Ministry’s ‘no Apparating for Lucius only’ and ‘no leaving the property for Lucius only’ wards that they came and maintained once a month.  Without a wand.  And having apparently lost the ability to perform wandless magic.

With his self-pity well on its way to becoming another episode of full-on depression, he finally took to agitatedly wandering the house.  He went in rooms he hadn’t been in for a decade or more, just because they were there, and they looked slightly different from his room, the dining room, the entrance hall, the sitting room, the library, the hallway and the staircase, which were the only places he normally went.  Also, he was afraid that if he went and sat in his room, the depression really would steal over him again, and Draco wasn’t here to poke and prod him out of it.  Besides the embarrassment factor of Draco trying to hug him again.  He shuddered at the very thought.

He hadn’t run out of rooms to explore, but he had run out of interest despite his restlessness when Draco returned, so he was in the library trying to juggle paperweights when his son walked in.

‘What are you doing?’

The paperweights fell to the floor, and Lucius scowled at his only son.

‘I’m trying to find a topic for the project Granger is making me do,’ he said, which totally wasn’t something he’d just now thought of as an excuse.  ‘Muggles juggle, right?’

Draco sighed and leaned against the doorjamb.  ‘I don’t know, I’m not the one taking the class.  And she’s not just making  _ you _ , specifically, do it, she’s making the whole class do it.  And thirdly, even if Muggles juggle, I doubt you could get a whole paper out of it.’

Lucius begrudgingly conceded that point and tossed the paperweights back in the drawer he’d found them in.

‘So how was dinner at  _ the Burrow _ ?’ he asked mockingly.  ‘Did you remember to take a bezoar with you?  You’re still alive so far, so that’s a positive sign.’

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘Father, they’re my friends.  They’re not going to poison me.  Even if they’re only pretending to be my friends, they obviously have their reasons for doing so, and murdering me would be counterproductive to those reasons.  If they did decide to assassinate me, they’re far too Gryffindor to go the poison route.  Actually, it went well, and Molly is an excellent cook.’

Lucius snorted and didn’t dignify that with a response.  Only the  _ Weasleys _ would hold a dinner party and actually cook the meal themselves.

‘Anyway, Father, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.  I spoke with Hermione, and….’

He squirmed and looked exceedingly uncomfortable.  Lucius perked up a bit with interest.  Granger was a Gryffindor, too--one of the most Gryffindor Gryffindors Lucius had ever had the misfortune of meeting--so she had undoubtedly told Draco the truth of what happened.  Still, she’d been showing an almost Slytherin enjoyment of her students’ pain, so there was always a slim chance that she’d made up something truly vile that would make getting scolded  _ by his own son _ worth it.

‘I’m sorry I overreacted,’ he finally mumbled, not looking at Lucius.  ‘I should have verified the facts before I assumed that you’d done something awful.’

Gryffindor.

‘Yes, you should have,’ said Lucius haughtily.  ‘I am still hurt by the fact that you apparently think me so stupid and so Gryffindor as to attack someone on whom my freedom depends.  I can suffer her existence without retaliation until the end of the school year--at least give me credit for that much intelligence and restraint.’

Although truthfully, it hadn’t required as much restraint as Lucius had thought it would.  Granger was a tolerable (even occasionally amusing) teacher, much different from her normal personality, and he found it easy to forget that he had no wand with which to hex her while she was lecturing, because hexing her wasn’t on his mind.  It had been the circumstances, more than anything, that Lucius had been railing against, and which continued to gall him.

‘Well, I apologised, and that’s that,’ Draco said, still squirming a bit.  Then he straightened and changed the subject.  ‘I’ve been invited to Harry’s for tomorrow’s dinner as well, and I decided to reciprocate, so on Thursday, we’ll be hosting Harry, Hermione, Longbottom, Loony--I mean, Lovegood--and of course the Weasley horde.’

Silence fell between them.  Lucius thought perhaps his brain was broken.  He had just had a vision of  _ his home _ , filled with those red-haired, slobbering peasants, and his brain utterly rejected it and went blank.

‘Father?’ Draco prompted worriedly.

Lucius blinked.  ‘I’m sorry, I thought you just said you invited a pack of Weasleys into our home.’

‘I did.’

‘You….’

His mouth worked, but no sound came out.  Something very ugly and black started boiling in his insides, and he actually saw red when he looked up at Draco.  His face heated and he could feel the blood pounding in his temples as he rose to his feet, his wand hand twitching uselessly.

‘You invited  _ Weasleys _ into  _ my home _ .  Without even asking me first.’

Draco shrugged stiffly.  ‘Well, it was the polite thing to do, Father.  And I think you can handle them every Thursday, it’s only one day a week….’

‘ _ Every Thursday?! _ ’

‘The dinners are sort of a weekly thing.’

Draco seemed utterly unaffected by his rage, which simultaneously made him angrier and deflated it, making his eyes sting with the utter helplessness and impotence of his position.

‘Weekly.’  He ground his jaw, and his voice got very quiet.  ‘Weasleys in my home.  Every week.  Well, I guess it’s  _ your _ home now, isn’t it?  I just live here.’

He stormed out, headed for his bedroom.

‘Father….’

He quickened his pace and slammed the door in Draco’s face, locking it.  It was all very satisfying, but it didn’t take away the main core of helpless indignation.

‘Father, please let me in.  I’m sorry I upset you, but we need--’

‘Go away.’

Draco could easily unlock the door with a first-year’s spell, and Lucius found himself relieved and grateful when he didn’t, instead muttering an apology through the door and taking his leave.  Lucius let out a breath and flopped back on his bed, pressing his hands to his eyes to stop the stinging.

‘I hate everything,’ he said sulkily to the empty room.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco arrived on time to the gathering at Harry’s the next evening, and he looked pale and upset again, but fortunately this time he immediately cornered Hermione.

‘That didn’t go well,’ he said without preamble, his brows knit with concern.

‘What, your apology?’

He waved an impatient hand.  ‘No, telling him about Thursday.  I told him and he blew up at me, and then he went in his room and he hasn’t come out since.  He won’t talk to me.  Tibby says he isn’t eating the meals she brings, either.’

‘She isn’t putting celery in them, is she?’ Hermione joked, and immediately regretted it when Draco scowled at her, looking genuinely hurt.  She sighed.  ‘After we eat, I’ll cook up something for him.  What’s his favourite food?’

He chewed his lip.  ‘Do you really think making his favourite food will work?  He might just be starving himself to death.’

Hermione felt her heart melt a little at Draco’s sincerely distressed, tearful visage.  The Malfoys weren’t exactly known for their emotional displays, so his open worry for his father was very touching.  She made a mental note to never mention that to Draco’s face.

‘Draco, if Lucius Malfoy was going to kill himself, I think he would be much more dramatic about it than simply locking himself in a room and starving himself.  Think more along the lines of throwing himself off the roof or stabbing himself in the middle of the hallway, where everyone could see it.’

His eyes widened with alarm, and she cursed herself and hurried to reassure him.

‘Anyway, he’s not going to kill himself.  If he was going to kill himself, he would’ve done it already, like when Voldemort was living in his house, or after the Battle of Hogwarts and Narcissa’s filing for divorce, when he seemed poised to drink himself to death anyway.  Your father loves life, and more importantly, he loves himself,’ she pointed out with a wry smile.  ‘He’s not going to throw that away no matter how miserable and depressed he is at the moment.’

Draco still looked alarmed.  ‘How can you know that?’

She put a hand on his arm.  ‘He’s  _ Lucius Malfoy _ , and he knows it.  Would he really deprive the world of his fabulousness?’

He stared at her for a long moment before relaxing with a snorted laugh.  ‘No, probably not.’

Hermione grinned.  ‘There you go.  Now then, what’s his favourite food?’

Draco had to think about that for a long time, so long that Hermione grew impatient and a little annoyed.

‘You don’t know what his favourite foods are?  Doesn’t he request them from his house elves?’

‘No, he just tells them what he doesn’t like, and eats whatever they make him,’ Draco said defensively.

Hermione blinked.  ‘Really?’

‘Really.  He actually gives the elves a very free hand with most things.  It’s only the fact that he’s so high maintenance that makes it hard for them, because he can suddenly decide something’s very important to him to get just so, when normally he wouldn’t care.’  He tilted his head.  ‘I know you’re thinking of Dobby, but that was a special case.  Not that he can’t get mean and temperamental with  _ all _ of the house elves, but Dobby never made any secret of the fact that he disliked our family, sabotaging things and purposely getting things wrong, and I’m afraid it made Father rather vindictive.  Moreso than usual, I mean.’

‘Ah.  And it never would have occurred to him to sell or free Dobby, naturally.’

‘Naturally,’ sniffed Draco.  ‘In his eyes, Dobby was our property, so he needed to straighten up and start adoring the family.  How dare Dobby have an opinion, etc., etc.’

Hermione smiled.  Draco had come a long way, and moments like this just proved it, and increased her fondness for him.

‘All right, so we don’t know what his favourite foods are.’  She frowned in thought.  ‘Comfort food, then.  Does he like pot pies?’

Draco blinked.  ‘We’ve never eaten them, only shepherd’s pie.  A pot pie is, uh….’

Hermione raised a brow and smirked.  ‘Peasant food?’

His cheeks reddened, and that was answer enough.

‘It’s just two pie crusts, vegetables--not celery--cheese and a meat.  Does he like turkey?  That’s my favourite kind.’

Draco shrugged.  ‘I guess he’d like that.  It doesn’t sound like anything he hates, anyway.’

‘Then I’ll make him some after dinner and we’ll take it over.’

His brow rose.  ‘We?’

She smiled.  ‘I want my pie plate back afterward.’

He shook his head at her and they rejoined the party.  Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Draco continued to assiduously avoid Ginny, though he did join Ron, Harry and Neville this time.  She was  _ going _ to change that tomorrow night, and that was that.


	4. A Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione convinces Lucius to come out of his room with the ultimate weapon--food. The following evening, they experience a proper Malfoy dinner party, and Hermione gives Draco a shove in Ginny's direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter ended up really, really...really long. I'm only half sorry, since I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I hope you all enjoy!

Three hours later, Hermione Apparated to Malfoy Manor alongside Draco, pot pie in hand.

‘He probably won’t talk to either of us,’ the younger Malfoy warned glumly.

‘We’ll see,’ said Hermione.

She was finding it more than a little disturbing to be standing in the entrance hall where she’d been tortured not too long ago, and really wanted to move things along.  Perhaps this had not been the wisest choice she’d ever made.

Draco led her upstairs, to a door that appeared identical to all the others.  She fleetingly wondered how they managed to not get lost, and then mentally shrugged, figuring that at least here, the doors and staircases seemed to stay put, unlike at Hogwarts.  He knocked, but there was no reply, as expected.

‘Father?’ he called through the door.  ‘Father, I’ve brought you something to eat.  Please let me in.’

There was no response, again.  Hermione stepped forward, wincing slightly.

‘Can I try?’

Draco shrugged.  ‘It won’t make any difference, but go ahead.’

He backed away, and she stepped forward and knocked lightly.

‘Mr Malfoy?  Mr Malfoy, it’s me, Hermione Granger….’  She winced again at how stupid that sounded.  ‘I made a pot pie, and…well…I was wondering if maybe you’d like to have it?  I’m not…hungry.’

She closed her eyes briefly in physical pain at how idiotic she sounded, and Draco was laughing at her, but they both came to attention at the sound of the lock turning.  The door opened a crack, and one icy blue eye appeared in the space.  Hermione straightened and smiled, trying to appear casual and confident.  She suspected that she failed; being inside Malfoy Manor was unsettling her a lot more than she had expected it to, and it had nothing to do with the fact that the Malfoys had apparently never heard of decorating with anything other than marble and black.

‘What kind?’ said Lucius suspiciously.

‘Oh, um.  It’s turkey.’

She took the lid off to show him, and the smell filled the air.  He peered down at it, and then the door shut again.  Silence fell.

‘It was a good try,’ said Draco bracingly.  ‘That’s more than I’ve got out of him.’

Hermione wasn’t ready to fold just yet.  She could play the waiting game.  A quick spell ensured that the aroma would linger a lot longer than it would have otherwise, and another spell would keep the dish hot.

‘Mr Malfoy?  If you change your mind, we’ll be downstairs in the dining room,’ she called, and turned on her heel.

Draco followed her like a lost puppy dog, until it became apparent that she had no idea where the dining room was, whereupon he led her the rest of the way.

‘I don’t think this will work, Hermione,’ he said as they entered.  ‘We Slytherins can play the waiting game like nobody else.’

Hermione just smiled and set the pie on the table, removing her cloak and preparing to settle in.

‘Oh, certainly, when it’s politics, or a business deal,’ she agreed, her confidence growing back as she continued to not be tortured or threatened.  ‘But a Slytherin who hasn’t eaten since lunch on Tuesday, presented with a plate of hot food?  That’s something different altogether.’

He sat down across from her with a snort.  ‘I know a Gryffindor would jump at it in five minutes, but we Malfoys don’t operate that way.  We might not see him again until it’s time for class on Thursday.’

She just smiled serenely and removed a pack of Muggle playing cards from her beaded bag.

‘I’m not saying it might not be a long wait,’ she said, shuffling.  ‘I’m just saying that, Malfoy or not,  _ Slytherin _ or not, your father is still a man, a man who, if my ears didn’t deceive me, closed the door on us because his stomach was growling.’

Draco blinked, and then grinned slowly.  ‘What are we playing?’

It was another hour before Draco begged off, his eyes too tired to keep playing, and bade her good night.  Hermione switched to solitaire and continued to wait.  Another twenty minutes, and she was about ready to concede defeat and go home, when--

‘Where is Draco?’

Hermione let out a little shriek, dropping the cards she was holding all over the floor, and turned to face a now-smirking Lucius Malfoy, a hand at her throat.

‘ _ Must _ you do that?!’ she half-yelled, her heart still pounding with adrenaline.  ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!’

‘My apologies,’ Lucius murmured, but the delighted smile playing on his lips and the twinkle in his eye told a different story.

He walked further into the room, and with a sigh, she summoned her cards.

‘He got tired and went to bed,’ she said, frowning, but getting calmer.

‘Ah.  Yet you’re still here?’

He seated himself at the head of the table, adjacent to her, and reached for the pot pie without any coyness or attempts to pretend that wasn’t why he was there.  He served himself a piece, and Hermione watched in awe as he polished it off faster than anyone she’d ever seen, save for Ron as a teenager.  He still managed to do it with dignity and style, which she found incredibly unfair.  He raised a brow at her as he served up his second piece, reminding her that she hadn’t answered him.

‘Obviously, since I’m still sitting here,’ she said, deadpan.

‘But you have classes in the morning.  It’s nearly midnight--shouldn’t you be asleep?’ he parried, very pointedly.

‘Shouldn’t  _ you _ ?’  It was a lame comeback, but it was all she had at the moment.

Lucius’s expression went blank, save his eyes, which darkened with a shadow of fear.  ‘Nightmares.’

‘Oh.’

She remembered Draco’s description of Lucius’s nightmares and felt guilty for even accidentally broaching the subject.  He poked at his food for moment, but the smell seemed to recall his appetite, and he went back to it.

‘How’s your homework coming?’

Lucius stopped with his fork poised in his open mouth, shooting her an incredulous look.

Hermione shrugged innocently.  ‘We needed a subject change?’

He deliberately chewed and swallowed that bite before even attempting to answer her, pinning her with his annoyed gaze the whole time.  She wondered how she could escape gracefully.

‘I haven’t done my homework,’ he said at last, challengingly.  He even lifted his chin at her, his eyes flashing.

Hermione was unfavourably reminded of Draco in their early Hogwarts days, and bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing in Lucius’s face.  She didn’t imagine that would go over well, and she had no desire to have to duel Lucius the instant he got his wand back in June, as she was certain it was an occurrence he would remember.

‘Okay,’ she said when she was certain she wasn’t going to laugh.

His brow furrowed in puzzlement.  ‘Okay?’

‘Yes, okay.  It means sure, fine, all right--’

‘I am familiar with the term,’ he snapped.  ‘You aren’t going to lecture me?’

Hermione smiled.  ‘You’re an adult, Lucius.  You’re older than I am.  I think you’re perfectly capable of deciding whether or not to do your homework, with a full understanding of any and all consequences.’

He stared at her for a long moment.  She resisted the urge to squirm under his unreadable stare.  She suddenly realised that she had called him by his first name without his permission, and was debating the merits of trying to apologise for her faux pas when he spoke.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, turning his eyes to his now-empty plate.

It was her turn to frown in confusion.  ‘For what?’

He just shook his head and served himself a third piece, eating silently but without rancour.  Hermione finished her hand of solitaire and packed her cards away.

‘Are you finished?’ she asked when he’d finished the third piece and put his fork down.

‘Yes.’  Then he seemed to struggle with the words for a moment.  ‘Thank you, it was delicious.’

Hermione couldn’t help her genuine grin.  ‘You’re welcome.  Would you like to keep the leftovers, or should I take it with me?  If you want the leftovers, I’d like my pie plate, I only have the one.’

‘Tibby!’ Lucius called in response, and the house elf appeared with a crack.  ‘Take this pie out and save it for me for tomorrow.  Miss Granger would like her pie plate back.’

The house elf bowed and did as instructed so fast that Hermione almost didn’t see it happening.  She took her empty pie plate and stood with a frown.

‘You could have thanked her,’ she grumbled.

He stood, too, and openly rolled his eyes at her.  ‘I could have, but I didn’t.  Don’t start your house elf crusade on me--it may have worked on Draco, but I will not stoop to  _ asking _ my servants to serve me.  It’s why they’re here.’

She bit down on her cheek very hard, and forced a smile that was undoubtedly not very convincing.

‘I hope to see you in class tomorrow, Mr Malfoy.  Good night.’

She gave a little half-curtsy, half-bow that Draco had once told her was good manners in pure-blood society, and enjoyed how surprised Lucius looked.

‘Good night, Miss Granger.’  He paused.  ‘And thank you again.’

Then he offered her the courtly bow Draco used.  Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and stalked out of the room, head held high.  She’d allowed herself to forget, for a while, that just because Draco had improved didn’t mean that his father wasn’t still an arrogant prick.

At least he hadn’t called her a Mudblood or demanded that she leave his house, and he had genuinely seemed to enjoy her cooking, since he kept what he didn’t eat.  Silver lining, of a sort.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The next morning at the Malfoy table was tense.  Lucius had not forgiven Draco for his presumptuous invitation ( _ Weasleys! _ ), so he remained stubbornly silent, only offering glares as responses while his son talked.  He did eat, though, and Draco seemed too relieved about that to offer any reprimands over his silence.

‘Now, since the Weasleys and the rest are coming here tonight, whether you like it or not, you’ll need to wear something suitable.  We’re Malfoys--we don’t entertain guests in bare feet and shirtsleeves.’

A pause, to allow a response to that jibe, but Lucius just shot him another glare.  What he wore was his own business and nobody else’s.  He’d show up to Draco’s little party in his pyjamas, if the mood struck him, and see how the little snot liked  _ that _ .

‘I want you to be on your best behaviour, if you can manage it,’ said Draco with a sniff.  ‘They’re my friends, and they should feel welcome in our home.’

Lucius bit down on his tongue to still the urge to assert that he would never call that pack of morons and blood traitors  _ friends _ , and they were most certainly  _ not _ welcome in their home.  He had the uncomfortable feeling that he would regret saying that later, if he didn’t stop himself.  He’d really only just got his son back after years of estrangement, and as much as he hated the circumstance, he didn’t  _ really _ want to do anything that could potentially push Draco away.

Unfortunately, it seemed that that meant tolerating  _ Weasleys _ .  He wondered when the universe was going to stop laughing at him.

‘Have a good day, Father,’ Draco said when he’d finished, and his tone was gentler.  ‘I hope your class goes well.’

Lucius grunted in response, and didn’t glare, and Draco seemed to be of an ‘I’ll take what I can get’ state of mind, because he accepted that and left.

That left him only one thing to do now: his homework.  Oddly, since Granger’s visit the previous night, he actually perked up a little at the notion.  As she had so astutely pointed out, it was really within his control whether he chose to do the homework or not--no one, not even Draco, could  _ force _ him to do it--and while he was hardly going to choose not to, given the consequences of failure, it was…nice that someone saw it that way.  As  _ his _ life.   _ His _ choice.  Even if that someone  _ was _ Hermione bloody Granger.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione found herself mildly surprised when Lucius actually showed up to class, homework in hand.  He had seemed so angry and obstinate last night that she’d half expected to get an owl, bearing some excuse.  But no, he arrived with his usual arrogant aplomb, head held high and sneering down at the lesser beings of the world (everyone except himself, generally).

She lectured on chapter five, about contacting the Ministry from the Muggle world, and handed back last week’s homework before dismissing the class.  Honestly, her favourite parts of the textbook were from the midpoint on, not that she’d admit it to the students.  The next chapter was about Parliament and other aspects of British Muggle government that differed from the Ministry of Magic, along with an outline of various other types of Muggle governments.  It had been so dull that she had fallen asleep while writing it, so she wasn’t particularly looking forward to teaching it.

When she turned from erasing the blackboard, Lucius was standing super close again, having obviously sneaked up behind her again.  She didn’t scream, as she had at Malfoy Manor, but she barely kept from crashing into him, and couldn’t help a hissed breath between her teeth.  The corner of Lucius’s mouth curled up and his eyes seemed to come alive, and he was absolutely stunning for a moment.  He smelled like cinnamon and vanilla.

She quickly extricated herself before she could do or say anything stupid.

‘I’m going to tie a bell around your neck if you keep doing that to me,’ she scolded jokingly.  ‘I take it you want to personally hand me your homework again?’

He handed it over.  ‘It continues to seem like the safest course of action,’ he drawled.  ‘I shall see you this evening, Miss Granger.’

He bowed gallantly and swept out of the room, all confidence and elegance, and Hermione felt very frumpy and scruffy in comparison.  She wondered how he managed to do that when she knew for a fact that just yesterday he’d been sulking in his room, which was not at all elegant or confident.

Hermione went home and got ready before heading to Harry’s.  They had decided that there was strength in numbers, so they would arrive together.

‘Wow!’ said Harry when she Flooed into his kitchen.  ‘You look…like we’re going to a ball.’

She smiled.  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.  It seemed appropriate, given that we’re dining at Malfoy Manor.  Do you even remember all the marble floors, all the marble walls, all the marble pillars?  It’ll be like dining in Buckingham Palace, except with a lot more awkward comments on the weather and gritted teeth.’

He frowned.  ‘You don’t really think it will be that bad, do you?’

‘Lucius threw a fit that lasted over a day.  He hates the Weasleys more than anyone else in the world, and if it weren’t for the fact that it’s probably the only way to get Draco talking to Ginny, this would be the worst idea I’ve ever come up with.  You do remember that he and Arthur hate each other so much that they forgot they’re wizards, or that they’re grown men, and started brawling, Muggle-style, in the middle of a crowded bookstore?’

Harry’s face scrunched and he only hesitantly pulled his cloak on.  ‘This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.  Is there any way we can get out of going?’

She shook her head resolutely.  ‘Nope.  We’ve got to be there to be mediators, if anything  _ does _ happen.  Besides, I want to be there so I can forcefully shove Draco in Ginny’s direction.’

He made a show of double-checking his wand.  ‘Fine, then--let’s get it over with.’

He offered her his arm and they Disapparated.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had made himself extremely presentable, hopefully to the point that the Weasleys would be so ashamed of their very existence that they would leave, and Draco couldn’t say a word about how appropriate his attire was.  He’d even perfumed and tied his hair back with a silk ribbon, as though he was about to dine with the Minister or someone equally important, instead of inbred, red-haired, pathetic excuses for wizards.

Sure enough, when he arrived in the entrance hall to greet their guests, Draco looked him over and turned away without saying anything.  He had every intention of remaining above his son’s reproach--at least where Draco could see.  If he and Arthur Weasley ended up alone together, well…certainly he could come up with a clever story about why it was Arthur’s own fault that he’d fallen out a window.

The first set to arrive were Molly and her daughter.  They greeted Draco enthusiastically, and Draco’s ears turned red.  He stammered a little when Ginny kissed his cheek, but remembered his manners eventually.

‘Molly, Ginny,’ he said in a voice that squeaked a bit.  ‘Welcome to our home.  You remember my father, Lucius?’

Lucius set his face into a neutrally polite expression and bowed courteously when they turned toward him.

‘Ladies,’ he greeted, pitching his own voice low and smooth, and Molly blushed when he kissed her hand.

On second thought, this could be fun.

‘I’ve set out refreshments in the sitting room, it’s just this way…?’ said Draco, and escorted them out.

Arthur and Percy Weasley arrived while he was showing them the way, meaning that Lucius had to play host alone.  And, of course, it just  _ had _ to be Arthur, didn’t it?  He was the worst of the lot, because he’d spawned all the rest.

‘Arthur,’ said Lucius, and he couldn’t really help it that his voice and face were like granite.  ‘Percival.’

‘Mr Malfoy,’ Percy returned brightly, seemingly oblivious to the tension.  ‘Thank you for your kind invitation.’

He made a noncommittal noise-- _ he _ hadn’t invited them, but it would be rude to say so.  No matter how much he hated them, they were his guests now, whether he liked it or not, and Malfoys were always hospitable to guests.  Except when evil crazy Dark Lords took up residency in their houses, but then the ‘guests’ hadn’t really belonged to the Malfoys.

‘Lucius,’ Arthur replied evenly.

His face was red, but he was doing an admirable job of putting aside his feelings otherwise.  Lucius wondered what other important mental functions were being ignored so he could apply his negligible intelligence to such control.

They managed to nod civilly enough to each other, and then thankfully Draco arrived to escort them to the sitting room as well.  Unlike Percy, he was well aware of the tension as soon as he stepped into the room, and made haste to move the two of them along.

The twin menaces to society arrived next, and Lucius personally escorted them to the sitting room before Draco could return to do it.  He wanted those two firmly under their mother’s eye, where they could do less damage.

Ron was the last of the Weasleys to arrive, bearing a bottle of really terrible, very cheap wine that Lucius had only tasted because the Ministry served it at their social functions.  Even Draco was hard-pressed to act pleased by this offering, not that Ron seemed to care whether they were pleased or not.

‘Has Harry arrived yet?’ he asked flatly after they got the niceties out of the way.

‘Not yet, but your family’s in the sitting room,’ Draco said in an equally flat tone.

Lucius smirked.  Apparently Draco wasn’t friends with  _ all _ of the Weasleys.  They walked out of the room together, each keeping a wary eye on the other, and Lucius wondered for whom this uneasy truce had been struck.

Luna Lovegood arrived, waved at him vaguely, and wandered out of the entrance hall.  Lucius stared after her for a moment, then shook it off.  There was a reason Draco called her Loony, after all.

Neville Longbottom arrived alone, too, but his offering was a much more palatable one--a selection of cheeses.

‘Not that you probably don’t have your own set out already,’ he said awkwardly, ‘but Gran says I should never show up empty-handed, and I can’t cook.’

‘Neither can I,’ said Lucius, disdainful of the very idea that either one of them ought to know how.  Neville was a more understandable kind of blood traitor, given what had happened to his parents, and Lucius found himself feeling a bit…soft toward the uncertain young man.  It was most disconcerting.

Oddly enough, his comment, however harshly spoken, seemed to calm Neville’s nerves, and they passed a…not  _ entirely _ unpleasant few minutes talking of inconsequential things.  They were interrupted by the arrival of Potter and Granger, arm in arm and bearing a dessert box.  Potter was his usual scruffy self, but Granger had put forth an effort, a visible one.  Her robe and gown looked at least somewhat expensive, and she’d tamed her bushy mane into a more tolerable twist of curls.  It exposed the white column of her neck, which Lucius found himself oddly preoccupied with.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ Potter greeted after a moment, and Lucius realised he’d been staring at Granger and forgotten his manners.  He quickly corrected, acting as though the slip was intentional.

‘Mr Potter,’ he replied, drawing out the ‘mister’ just for fun, and to watch Potter redden a bit.  ‘So glad you could make it.’

A blatant lie, and everyone there knew it, but Potter had evidently learned that he didn’t need to say every stupid thing that popped into his tiny mind.  Auror training was useful for something.

‘Glad to be here,’ he said, but he stumbled over the words.

He quickly turned to greet Neville instead, leaving Lucius free to greet Granger, who was watching the whole affair with amusement.

‘Miss Granger,’ he said, and he pitched his voice low again, bending over her hand but not kissing it.  He couldn’t embarrass her too much, or she might fail him.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ she said a little breathlessly.  ‘I’m glad to see you out of your room.’

Lucius smiled tightly.  ‘I occasionally emerge.’

‘I didn’t think you would, not for this particular occasion,’ she replied lightly, recovering much more swiftly than Potter had.  He was  _ still _ red around the ears.

‘That would be rude of me,’ said Lucius dismissively.  ‘Unless I had a good excuse, which I don’t.’

They began walking together, and Neville and Potter followed them after a moment.

‘Hmm,’ Hermione said innocently.  ‘You didn’t seem to have a problem lying just a moment ago.’

Lucius glanced at her.  ‘I…have been attempting to keep my dishonesty to a minimum.  A little white lie here and there is more forgivable than blatantly shirking my duties as host.’

She just hummed in her throat.

‘What’s in the box?’

She grinned briefly.  ‘Oh, nothing you’ll be interested in, I’m sure,’ she drawled.  ‘Just a cheesecake I made.’

He swallowed, because all of a sudden his mouth watered like a fountain.

‘What kind?’ he asked, attempting to keep his tone nonchalant, and failing miserably.

Hermione’s eyes twinkled.  ‘Chocolate.’

Lucius bit the inside of his lip and made a noncommittal noise in his throat.  He was feeling the urge to suggest that they skip straight to dessert, and it would  _ really _ not do to appear so eager.  No matter how good her cooking was.

Fortunately, they arrived in the sitting room, where Granger, Potter and Neville were immediately accosted by gingers, and he was saved from blurting out anything he would regret later.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was impressed with Draco’s mediating skills.  He managed to circulate the room until dinner, keeping certain parties away from each other and making everyone feel welcome at the same time.  He’d clearly been paying attention when his father taught him how to be a diplomat, she reflected, because he didn’t give any one person more than their due, and couldn’t be accused of taking sides.  Lucius himself, on the other hand, had apparently decided to let Draco take on the bulk of the hosting duties, and settled in with Harry, Ron and Neville, much to her surprise.  Although, given the smirk on Lucius’s face and the redness of Harry and Ron’s faces, she thought she could guess why he’d chosen that particular corner of the room.  Ron didn’t seem ready to explode yet, so she let Lucius have his fun and chatted with Ginny instead.

A chime announced that dinner was ready, and Lucius and Draco shepherded them graciously into the dining room.  Unlike the last time she was here, this time the table was draped with a pristine white cloth, and set with candles in fine silver holders, shining silverware, and some of the most beautiful, delicate china and crystal she’d ever seen.  She had to make a concerted effort not to stand there gaping.

Draco had assigned them seats, she noted with amusement.  There was a little card on each plate with a name on it in elegant script.  She smirked at him as she rounded the table in search of hers, and he shrugged a little, his cheeks tinged pink.

He had seated himself at the head of the table, she noted, which was proper in the sense that Draco was the one who had issued the invitations, but not proper at all because Lucius was the head of the family, not Draco.  She worriedly glanced at Lucius to see how he’d taken it, but other than a brief grimace in Draco’s direction, he made no sign that he’d even noticed, taking his seat midway down the table with more grace than she would’ve expected.  She somehow doubted that that was the end of it, but then, she tended to forget that Lucius was the one who had taught Draco what restraint he possessed.  He was probably saving up all his anger and malice for after their guests left.

Hermione finally found her card across from Lucius’s, and offered him a smile as she took her seat.  He smiled tightly back, and she carefully schooled her expression as she saw why his smile was so tight--Arthur Weasley sat down beside him, wearing a hang-dog expression she usually only saw when Mrs Weasley was on a rampage.  And then it got even worse, as Ginny sat down on Lucius’s other side.

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth to keep in the giggle that wanted to escape as the skin around Lucius’s eyes tightened visibly.  He shot her a quick glare that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.  This was going to be  _ so much fun _ .

Especially since it turned out she was lacking in any other dinner entertainment.  She had to wonder what Draco had been thinking when he assigned the seating, because he’d put Neville on her left, rounding out the head of the table of boys, with Harry and Ron on Draco’s right and left hands, and on her other side was Percy, who spent the whole time talking with Arthur across from him about Ministry things that were colossally unimportant and boring.  Mrs Weasley was at the opposite end from Draco, and had been saddled with keeping Fred and George in line.  Luna was sort of the odd man out, with an empty space across from her, acting as a human buffer between Percy and George.  And Hermione suddenly realised there were thirteen of them and hoped it wasn’t an omen.

So, since her dinner partners on either side were otherwise engaged, Hermione spent most of dinner (which was simply delectable) watching the comedy across from her.

Arthur was talking to Percy, and Ron was talking to Draco, so Ginny had taken it upon herself to try and talk to Lucius.  It did not appear to be going well, but, as always, Ginny was undeterred.

‘…And did you know that it’s actually suspected that owning a puffskein clears your nasal passages and improves your athletic performance?  It’s just a rumour, really, but some of my teammates swear by it,’ she was babbling on and on.

Lucius’s knuckles were white around his fork and knife, but his ‘Ah’ was perfectly even and polite.  Hermione caught his eye and raised her brow just a hair, and had to hide a smile behind her wine glass when his nostrils flared with repressed rage.  Ginny must have seen it, too, because she grinned and continued with renewed gusto.

Really, it was a miracle that everyone made it through dinner alive, Hermione reflected.  Particularly since, while Draco had provided everyone else with wine, he was still apparently barring Lucius from alcohol.  She couldn’t decide whether a glass of wine might have helped lubricate Lucius’s mood, or if it would have made things worse.  Ultimately, she decided that Draco knew his father better than she did and that he’d probably made the wisest choice.

Lucius visibly perked up when their dinner plates vanished and dessert plates appeared, though he tried to hide it.  Hermione made certain  _ not _ to catch his eye this time.  She was actually confused about his enthusiasm for her cooking now, having eaten his house elves’ fare.  They rivalled the Hogwarts house elves, and yet he’d poked at his food and scowled when he chewed.  She’d thought it was wonderful, and there was no way her cooking measured up.

Still, there was no denying that his fingers eased their grip on the silverware and he even managed to respond to some nonsense Ginny was spewing with more than an ‘Ah.’

‘You get to choose which dessert you want,’ Draco announced once he had everyone’s attention.  ‘Tibby made pumpkin pie, and Hermione made a chocolate cheesecake, so just announce your choice to your plate and it will appear.’

Lucius immediately said cheesecake, so fast that Hermione had to pretend to cough to cover her giggle.  He just raised his brows at her and unashamedly surveyed his slice.

Hermione opted for pumpkin pie.  It was absolutely divine, and she looked up to tell Lucius so, but he was sitting with his eyes shut, rolling his first bite of cheesecake around in his mouth like nothing else in the world existed.  Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance of open surprise, and Ginny shut up for the first time in the whole meal.  There was no point in even talking  _ at _ him, Hermione supposed, because he was oblivious to all else.

‘He must really like chocolate,’ Ginny stage-whispered across the table to her.

Lucius didn’t appear to hear.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

After they’d all finished, they returned to the sitting room, where various beverages had been laid out.  Hermione went for water before setting her sights on Draco.  He was standing with Neville, Arthur and Percy, evidently engaged in a discussion on Ministry budgeting practices.  She marched over and snagged his elbow with a sweet smile.

‘Do you gentlemen mind if I steal Draco away for a moment?’

They assented, and she dragged Draco to a corner near the door.

‘Ow?’ said Draco.  ‘What was that about?’

Hermione folded her arms.  ‘Are you really going to spend the remainder of the evening discussing budgets?’

He scowled.  ‘Is there something else I should be doing?’

‘You’ve hardly spoken to Ginny all night.’

His cheeks immediately reddened and he fiddled with his wine glass.  ‘I’ve spoken to her,’ he mumbled.

‘You’ve been avoiding her for far too long, Draco.  When are you going to get the courage to tell her how you feel?’

He pretended to think.  ‘Oh…in approximately…never.  Hello?  She’s not interested in me.’

Hermione resisted the urge to throttle him.  ‘How do you know?  You two were getting along really well before you suddenly decided to treat her like a leper.’

He shuffled his feet.  ‘Well, she’s…a Weasley, and I’m a Malfoy, and if tonight hasn’t illustrated it enough for you, I’m here to inform you that historically, Weasleys and Malfoys tend to…agree to disagree, shall we say.’

She huffed.  ‘But what about Ginnys and Dracos?  From what I’ve seen, they “historically” get along just fine.  You both share a lot of political opinions; you  _ obviously _ have the same taste in wine and food, since I’m here to tell you that most of what you served were Ginny’s favourites, if a little fancier than usual; and your favourite Quidditch team just happens to be the team she plays for.  It’s practically a match made in heaven.  Not to mention that she bullied and nagged you out of your depression, and you  _ liked _ it.  Admit it.’

Draco tried not to smile.  ‘It was annoying,’ he said, not very convincingly.

‘Uh-huh, which was why it made you fall in love with her.’

‘SHHH!’ he hissed urgently, looking around wildly.  ‘You can’t just say things like that!  Out loud!  Where there are  _ people _ !’

She’d had quite enough.  She planted her feet and glared at him.

‘Look, Draco.  Ginny likes you, too, but she’s young.  She’s a popular player.  She’s got men and women alike propositioning her all the time.  She’s pretty.  She’s an extremely eligible single woman.  She’s not going to wait for you to pull your head out of your arse forever.’

His face fell and he looked away, swirling his wine and putting a hand in his pocket.  He was the very picture of desolation.

Hermione sighed.  ‘All is not lost, stop being so dramatic.  You’re on your home turf, right?  If you’re going to get brave enough to approach her, now would be the time.’

Draco looked up at her, stricken.  ‘But…but what will I  _ say _ ?’

That startled a laugh out of her.  ‘You, the scion of the House of Malfoy, don’t know what to say to a pretty girl?’

He reddened again.  ‘Well, Ginny’s not like other girls, you know?’

She softened at that, smiling gently.  She put a hand on Draco’s arm supportively.

‘I know.  Why don’t you just ask her to take a walk with you?  That’s nice and non-threatening, isn’t it?’

He straightened a little, brightening.  ‘I could do that.  That’s not scary.  It’s just a walk.’

‘That’s right,’ she coaxed.  ‘You can handle a walk in your own gardens.’

‘Right.  I’ll do it.’

He straightened his spine and lifted his head and marched purposefully over to Ginny, interrupting her harangue of a miserable-looking Lucius mid-word.  Lucius practically ran to the Mrs Weasley and Harry side of the room as soon as Draco appeared.  Draco spoke quietly, and then Ginny nodded, and they set aside their glasses and walked out together.

Resisting the urge to squeal like Lavender and Parvati in their school days, Hermione hurried from the room to find a good vantage point.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had to escape.  There were too many red-heads and not enough sense, and he really, really needed a break, or he would definitely do something that Draco would heartily disapprove of.  He skilfully redirected Molly’s attention on to how dreadfully  _ skinny _ Potter was looking these days, and slipped from the room as soon as she’d started in on the boy.  Potter glared daggers at him as he left, which just made it all the more fun.

His room seemed unappealing, and it might be interpreted as sulking if Draco found out, so he set course for the library instead.

He was halfway there when Luna Lovegood emerged from the lavatory.  She was wearing her shoes on the wrong feet.  He focused on her face, but the radish earrings were distracting, too.

‘Oh, hello, Mr Malfoy,’ she said dreamily.

Lucius inclined his head.  ‘Miss Lovegood,’ he managed to say with some civility.  ‘I do hope you’re enjoying your evening.’

‘Oh, yes, very much,’ she said, still in that dazed, unfocused way she had.  ‘It’s been much more fun than the last time I was at your house, sir.’

Lucius went cold.  He very much remembered the last time she was here--a prisoner in his house.  He opened his mouth, but realised he did not know what to say.  His throat felt tight.

‘I’d better rejoin the other guests,’ said Luna, and drifted past him.

Now he  _ really, really, really _ needed to be alone for a while.  He stopped just short of running to the library.

And, of course, there was someone already there.  He let out a disgusted noise and turned to go, but paused when the person hissed in a breath of surprise.

‘You startled me!  Again!  Seriously, I am going to tie a bell around your neck,’ Hermione Granger scolded him, one hand at her exposed throat.

He smirked in spite of the fact that he still felt as though he’d just walked through the Bloody Baron.  ‘My apologies.  Again.’

She waved a hand.  ‘Did you need something?’

He hesitated.  ‘I was seeking a little solitude, actually.  I’m afraid I’m a bit…overwhelmed.’

Her expression softened.  ‘Ah.  Mrs Weasley and Ginny can be a bit much at times.  I can leave if you want.  It’s your library.’

Lucius realised suddenly that, while the library was hardly an odd place to find Granger, she wasn’t surveying the shelves, but rather, standing at the window.  He craned his neck and stepped closer.

‘What are you doing in here, anyway?’ he asked curiously.

She grinned at that and beckoned him over.  ‘Look down there!’ she said excitedly, gesturing.

He looked.  And then the world spun and he clutched at the wall.

‘They’re so sweet together!’ Granger squealed, focused on the couple walking in the garden.  ‘Don’t you think?’

Draco was walking with the youngest Weasley.  He’d  _ offered her his arm _ .  There were fountains and twinkle lights and even the bloody peacocks had arranged themselves as romantically as possible.  Draco was slightly red, but he was smiling as the Weasley girl chattered animatedly beside him.  Lucius’s only source of relief was that she wasn’t chattering at  _ him _ this time.

‘My son…and a Weasley?’ he said faintly.  ‘My son…and a  _ Weasley _ ….  I think…I need to sit.’

Granger turned and noticed his distress for the first time.  She grabbed his arm and helped steer him to the nearest chair, and then stood staring at him worriedly as he held his head, willing the world to hold still for one bloody moment.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ she said tentatively.

‘What?’

‘Can I get you something?  Anything?  A glass of water, maybe?’

He closed his eyes.  It helped with the spinning.  A few more minutes of silence passed.

‘It really isn’t that bad,’ Granger said suddenly, obviously attempting to be comforting.  ‘At least she’s a pure-blood, right?’

Lucius snapped his head up and glared at her.  ‘She’s a  _ Weasley _ .  I’d rather see him with a Muggle-born than one of  _ them _ !’

Granger blinked, her lips parted in shock.  ‘Oh.  I didn’t realise they ranked even lower than me on your scale of hatred.’  She frowned.  ‘Why do you hate them so much?’

Lucius sputtered.  ‘It’s…well… _ obviously _ , it’s…I just….  I  _ hate _ that man!’

She blinked again.  ‘Arthur?’

‘Yes!’

‘Why?’

‘ _ Because _ ,’ said Lucius, and to him, that was reason enough.

Granger stared at him for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.  They started small at first, and then grew until she had to sink into a chair, too, her face red and tears of mirth collecting in her eyes.

Lucius fumed.  ‘What is so damned funny?’

‘Arthur…said the same thing,’ she gasped out between giggles, ‘when I asked him…why  _ he _ hated  _ you _ !’

Lucius’s brain refused to make the connection between them and stubbornly insisted that it was clearly different.

She calmed a little, wiping her eyes.  ‘I swear, you two act like schoolboys about each other.  Brawling in public areas, hating each other  _ just because _ ….’

He huffed.  ‘If you want a list, I’m sure I can come up with one.  Arthur Weasley has  _ many _ unpleasant qualities.’

She just smiled at him.  ‘That won’t be necessary, thank you.  Actually, I can see where Ron and Draco get it from.  They’re barely able to tolerate one another, and that only for Mrs Weasley’s sake.’

Lucius scowled at the reminder.  ‘How did this  _ happen _ ?’ he asked, more himself than her.

She answered anyway, because she was Hermione bloody Granger.

‘How did Draco become friends with the Weasleys?’

‘Friends with them, and apparently romantically interested in one of them,’ said Lucius glumly.

‘Well, it started when Draco’s mother left, really,’ she said thoughtfully.  ‘As I’m sure you noticed, Draco wasn’t at his best after she left.’

Lucius grimaced at the reminder.  Draco had been hostile, sullen, and he’d barely seemed to function when he wasn’t lashing out at Lucius.  For that reason, Lucius had made a pest of himself, since it seemed to be the only way to keep Draco from sinking into total despair.

‘At the Ministry one day, Harry and Draco and I were having a meeting,’ she went on, ‘over lunch, and Mrs Weasley arrived with some goodies for us.  Draco looked awful at that point.  Narcissa had been gone for over a month, and I don’t think he’d been eating much.  Mrs Weasley took one look at him and dragged him back to the Burrow, in spite of his protests.  She stuffed him full of food and sent him to bed.  Basically, she mothered him into submission.  It took a few days, but she did get him back on his feet as far as functioning like a normal human being goes.’

That explained Draco’s disappearance at that time.  He’d fretted and panicked, but the Auror office had blown him off when he tried to Floo call them, and when he returned, Draco had ignored him completely for about a week.  Eventually, Lucius had stopped asking where he’d been.

‘It helped, I think, having a sort of surrogate mother.  He started to realise that perhaps he’d been wrong about a few things.  And of course, she wouldn’t tolerate her children bullying or belittling Draco when he was feeling so low.  She actually knocked Fred and George’s heads together when they tried to prank him while he was asleep,’ she said, grinning at the memory.  ‘They struck a truce with Draco for her sake, and eventually Draco apologised for what a nasty little git he’d been.  It turns out that he has something in common with each of them--even he and Ron have a lot in common, although you’d better not tell him I said that--so after a while, it grew from an uneasy truce to keep Mrs Weasley from being upset to a real friendship.  Well,’ she amended, ‘except for he and Ron.  I don’t think they’ll ever really get along on their own.’

‘And the girl?’ Lucius prodded, dreading the answer.

Granger grinned.  ‘Mrs Weasley took care of the eating and looking after himself--Ginny took care of his depression.  She nagged him, she bullied him, she outright ordered him to get out and do things.  She made him attend her Quidditch practices and go out to lunch with her.  Honestly, I think Draco enjoyed being pushed around by her.  She’s good for him.  He needs a firm hand, even if he does think for himself a little more these days.’

That stung, a bit, and Lucius scowled at her.  She just looked back at him innocently.

‘And I suppose the rest of you eventually just fell in line, then?’

Granger flicked back a stray curl.  ‘Well, Draco and Harry had already started to realise they could get along from working together at the Ministry, but yes, they really became friends after Draco stopped being such a git to everyone.  It took Draco and I a little longer, mostly because he wasn’t prepared to apologise to a Mudblood at first.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Lucius snapped, without thinking.

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

‘We don’t use such…uncouth terminology in this house,’ he said defensively.

Her brow rose and her tone was dry.  ‘Funny.  Draco never had a problem using that word at school.’

‘He didn’t learn it from me, or from Narcissa.  He most likely learned it from our…associates,’ he sneered.  ‘If we had known he was using such terms, he would have been punished.  While our attitudes toward Muggle-borns have never been as positive as you might desire, we have never stooped to slurs,’ he added with a sniff.  ‘It’s classless and tasteless.’

Her lips curled into a smile that wasn’t altogether happy.  ‘Two terms which can never be applied to the Malfoys.’

‘Almost never,’ Lucius corrected.  He hunched his shoulders a bit.  ‘During the war, we….’

He trailed off.  He had no words to openly apologise.  He was a Malfoy.

Granger’s eyes were very dark.  ‘None of us were at our best.’

He gritted his teeth.  ‘You were tortured in my home,’ he rasped.

She tilted her head.  ‘You did nothing.’

‘Exactly.  I did  _ nothing _ .’

She considered him for so long that Lucius dropped his eyes.  He was wishing he’d never broached the subject at all, but when she called herself a Mudblood, something in him had twisted oddly, and he’d felt a pull to wipe the word away, to make amends, somehow.  It was not something he was practised at doing, and so his attempts only caused this awkward silence.  He was out of his depth, and didn’t know how to smoothly save this situation as he had so many political stumbles.  Other people’s, not his own.  He never stumbled politically.

‘What, exactly, do you think you should’ve done, Mr Malfoy?’ Granger asked softly, making him jump.

He avoided her eyes, shoved his hands under his thighs so he wouldn’t wring them.

‘I don’t know.  Something.  It was…my house, and my sister-in-law.  I should’ve….’

He trailed off again.

‘Disabled Bellatrix without a wand?’ she suggested gently.  ‘Defied Voldemort, openly?’

He flinched at the name and said nothing.

Granger drew in a breath and hesitantly touched his knee.  ‘There was nothing you could’ve done, Mr Malfoy.  I don’t blame you.  I’ve never blamed you, not for that.  You had no wand, no way of defending yourself or your family.  Bellatrix was a powerful witch, there’s no way you could have taken her on without a wand of your own.  And openly defying… _ him _ in such a way would have meant a death sentence for you and your family.  You did what you had to do to get them through alive.  How could I blame you for that?’

Lucius nodded stiffly, but the guilt choking him (and he finally acknowledged that it was guilt) did not dissipate.  He swallowed it down as best he could, and tried not to examine  _ why _ he felt so guilty.  She was a Muggle-born.  He’d taken part in many Muggle-baitings in the past, had actually been somewhat renowned for his cleverness at it, and while he’d never killed anyone, that was more because of his need to maintain plausible deniability than it was morality or respect for human life.

Perhaps it was because she was Draco’s age, and when thinking of the Dark Lord killing both her and Potter, even back then when he’d hated them, a part of him had clenched and thought of Draco.  Or not.  He didn’t really want to know.

And since when was it  _ when _ he  _ had _ hated them?  He  _ did _ hate them.  They were annoying.

She removed her hand and sat back.  ‘Draco likes Ginny.  Like,  _ really _ likes her,’ she said, getting them back on topic.  ‘I think you’re going to have to deal with that.’

He cursed, making her giggle.

‘I thought the Malfoys didn’t use words like that,’ she teased, eyes sparkling.

‘Only when discussing Weasleys,’ he returned, and inexplicably felt lighter.

The silence that fell between them was easier, and Granger went back to the window to watch the two lovebirds.

‘If he was so upset about Narcissa leaving, why didn’t he go with her?’ Lucius wondered aloud, since he was feeling so maudlin and horrible anyway.  Might as well go all in.

Granger went very still for a moment, and when she spoke, she didn’t turn from the window.

‘I think…you’ll have to ask Draco that yourself,’ she said softly.  ‘But I  _ believe _ that it’s because he wouldn’t abandon you.’

Lucius turned away bitterly, his jaw working.  It was always his fault, wasn’t?  Everything was always because of him, and the many stupid choices he’d made as a young man.

‘You’d had your wand taken away and you were under house arrest, going through countless months of litigation, and he just couldn’t bring himself to leave you to fend for yourself.’

‘He should have,’ Lucius said, matching her soft tone despite the bitterness of his words.  ‘He would’ve been better off.’

‘Draco would never do that,’ Granger argued, finally turning to face him again.  ‘He loves you, Mr Malfoy.  He’s going to stick by you no matter what.’

Lucius did not reply, instead changing the subject.  ‘How was Tibby’s pumpkin pie?’

Food was a safe subject.  Mostly.

She smiled.  ‘It was good.  Everything was delicious, actually.  Your house elves are really talented.  I don’t see how you resist their cooking sometimes.’

He grunted.  ‘They’re all right,’ he said grudgingly.

Granger let out a merry peal of laughter, and then they were interrupted by an explosion from the sitting room--Fred and George at work again, naturally.

The party dispersed pretty quickly after that.  The house elves got to work cleaning up the hot pink and neon green mess the twin terrors had made, and Draco and Lucius saw off their guests graciously.

‘See you next week!’ Draco chirped cheerfully at Ginny.

Lucius ground his teeth together and tried very hard to smile.  Granger shot him a wicked grin before she left, so he knew at least one person had seen through the act, and she was incredibly amused by his irritation.

Annoying, that’s what she was.   _ So _ annoying.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione Flooed back with Harry for a cup of tea before heading back to her flat.  Harry was never very good at hiding his feelings, and he hadn’t improved with age, so she could tell he was just bursting to ask her something, hence the offer of a nightcap.

‘Well, out with it, then,’ she said after she had her cup of tea in hand.  ‘What’s on your mind?’

The words very nearly exploded out of him.  ‘Luna says that you and Lucius were alone in the library together.’

She raised a brow.  ‘And?’

Harry leaned forward in his seat agitatedly.  ‘And you were  _ alone _ with him.’

‘I’m alone with Lucius a lot,’ she replied coolly.

He just stared at her with both brows raised, biting on his lower lip.

She rolled her eyes.  ‘He was feeling down.  Too many Weasleys, I think.  He just needed a little sane conversation.  Of course, I unintentionally made things  _ worse _ by pointing out that Draco was walking in the gardens with Ginny, in a more than friendly way….’

Harry scratched at the back of his head, mussing up his hair even more.  ‘Since when are you Lucius’s shoulder to cry on?’

‘He didn’t cry,’ Hermione chuckled, amused by the very thought.  ‘I think it was just an accident of proximity.  He chose to retreat to the library to be alone, and he was too polite to kick me out when he found I was there already.’

‘You were gone a long time,’ Harry pressed.  ‘ _ All _ you talked about was Ginny and Draco?  Which, by the way, is still weird.’

‘Well, we also talked about how responsible he feels for the fact that I was tortured in his house.’

As expected, Harry immediately backed down, sitting back and his expression softening.

‘Does he?’ he asked softly.

‘Oh, yes,’ Hermione said wryly, swirling her tea.  ‘And nothing I said seemed to make any difference.’

Harry pursed his lips, looking thoughtful.  ‘I had no idea Lucius knew what guilt was.’

Hermione cupped her chin in her hand.  ‘He does.  He feels guilty about a lot of things, he just doesn’t want to admit it.  He feels very guilty about everything he did as a Death Eater, and all the things that happened during the war.  He even feels guilty about Narcissa leaving.  I think he thinks it was his fault, and he feels bad that Draco misses her so much.’

‘Huh.’  He shook his head.  ‘Well, if he won’t pay a therapist, I guess you’ll have to do.’

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.  ‘Shut up, Harry.’

He grinned and gulped his tea.


	5. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius confronts his guilt and crashes. Hermione cooks, and Draco just tries to cope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get some consequences from the Weasley overload, and he and Hermione's little chat. No more hiding for Lucius. Poor guy. I'm so mean to him.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! If you have any thoughts on the story, I'd love to hear from you. A big thank you to all of you who've left me comments already, you've really encouraged me and helped me keep my momentum going.

Draco was annoyingly chipper at breakfast the next morning.  He was  _ humming _ to himself.

Lucius couldn’t take it.  He knew exactly why Draco was so chipper, and he wasn’t going to let him pretend it was anything else.

‘I saw you walking with the Weasley girl,’ he announced during a break in the humming.

Draco met his eye, and then drew himself up, his expression darkening as he looked down his nose at his own father.

‘And?’ he demanded coldly.  ‘Is that a problem?’

Inwardly, Lucius called a retreat.  Clearly, Draco was more infatuated with her than he’d supposed, and he would not budge on this issue.  He saw his future, full of Weasleys, and swallowed.  He would have to learn to accept it, somehow; he couldn’t bear to lose his son, not over a Weasley or anyone else.

‘You didn’t even offer her your cloak,’ he said testily instead.  ‘It was a cool September evening and you asked her to go for a walk  _ outside _ , and then you didn’t bother to offer her your cloak.  Have I taught you nothing?’

Draco’s expression eased.  ‘We used Warming Charms,’ he replied mildly.

Lucius snorted.  ‘Warming Charms are hardly romantic.  Wrapping a girl in your cloak is romantic.’

He smiled, shaking his head slightly.  ‘I’ll keep that in mind for next time, Father.’

‘You do that.’

_ Next time _ , he thought, and tried not to sigh.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It was a Friday, and Lucius was out of things to do after Draco left for the Ministry.  He’d done his homework already, having newfound pride in actually accomplishing that.  He’d written a six-page list of things he wished Muggle-borns knew about pureblood society (at the top of which was ‘Don’t act like idiots’), and Draco had finally begged him to stop for the time being, pointing out that six pages was a  _ lot _ of ideas to go through, and he hadn’t even had an opportunity to meet with Granger about it yet.  The only thing left was the final project, or getting even farther ahead on the homework.  He didn’t want to get  _ too _ far ahead, and he had no ideas at all for the final project.

That was actually a problem, he reflected, staring at the library ceiling.  They were coming into the third week of September, and he had to have an approved idea turned in by the Christmas break.  Lucius was a firm believer in getting things approved ahead of time, and the sooner he got it approved, the more time he would have to work on it.  He expected to need lots, and lots, and lots of time to work on it, because he had no idea at all how he was going to come up with the answers to whatever question he managed to wrangle out of his brain.

He had no plan of attack, and that was unlike him.  He frowned at the ceiling.  As much as it pained him to admit it, he might have to ask Granger for help.  It was rather difficult to start doing something when one didn’t even know how to attempt to do it.  And she  _ had _ said that they could ask her.

Still, it wasn’t something he really wanted to do, if he could help it.  The very idea hurt his pride, and…after her unexpected understanding over their…shared past, it felt awkward.  He wasn’t sure he could approach her with a request, knowing he owed her for her magnanimity.  She wouldn’t go back on what she had already said--she was far too Gryffindor--and the whole conversation had settled any doubts he might have had that she would fail him out of spite.  Certainly, there were other things she could be angry with him about, or still hate him for, but none as large and overt as the fact that she had been tortured right in front of him, on his floor, and he had stood and done nothing, said nothing.  Only hoped that perhaps the Dark Lord would be pleased and his family would be safe and favoured again.

Disgusted, Lucius threw himself off the sofa and paced.  Yes, he’d done terrible things.  Yes, he’d been a bit of a selfish bastard his whole life.  Yes, he was more than a little bigoted.  Must he suffer for it forever?

According to the outside world, no.  He just had to try to understand Muggles for a year, and then he was through, free and clear.  Lucius was more afraid that the pressure in his chest, the tightening in his throat whenever he closed his eyes and thought back to those dark days would never go away.  He was afraid that Draco would never again look at him with a smile undimmed by judgment, by the knowledge that when it came down to it, his father had led him astray and put him in a terrible position.  That he had  _ failed _ him.

He sat and pressed one hand to his eyes.  This was not thinking of Muggles.  He needed to think of  _ Muggles _ .  What did he know of them?

He knew how they screamed.  He knew that they, like so many wizards, begged for their loved ones to be spared.  He knew that they were more fragile than wizards, that they bled and died so much more easily.  He knew that their homes were different, that they were flimsier and had no wards, and that there was rarely enough space to torture them properly, so they usually had to be levitated outside.  He knew that Muggles cried when a loved one died, the same as any wizard.  He knew that the Muggle-borns would do anything to protect their parents--even Obliviate them to remove all knowledge of a magical child and send them far away, to some place like Australia, to protect them from people like Lucius, despite the personal cost.

Lucius laid back on the sofa and put both hands over his face, trying to pretend that the hitches in his breathing weren’t strangled sobs, and that there weren’t tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione wasn’t supposed to know about the ‘surprise’ birthday party on Sunday.  She was turning twenty, and her friends were cooking up a large and festive get-together at the Burrow.  The problem was that none of them were any good at hiding things from her.  Harry and Ron tried not to grin whenever they saw her, and Neville would blush and mumble for a while when talking to her at first.  Ginny practically bounced with pent-up energy that she couldn’t easily explain away, and even Draco was looking like the cat that got the canary.  She didn’t want to spoil their fun, so she pretended she didn’t know.

Still, Friday was the worst that they had been so far.  When she popped down to the Ministry for lunch, she got tired of watching Harry, Ron and Draco contorting their faces from trying not to smile, and excused herself early.

Honestly, it was kind of cute, though she would never admit it.

She also didn’t want to spoil their fun by telling them about the ominous notes she continued to receive weekly.  She’d been receiving anonymous notes since the end of last term, threatening ones, in a hand she didn’t recognise.  They were never jinxed or hexed, so she didn’t feel right turning them over to the Auror Office, but nonetheless, they were disturbing.  They seemed to imply that the person had met her before, as well, because several of the notes mentioned ‘finishing what we started.’

She knew that there were still rogue Death Eaters out there.  It was part of the reason Draco remained somewhat paranoid about his safety, and why Lucius’s strict house arrest was almost as much for his safety as it was to punish him.  The Goyles, too, were under house arrest, although they were at least permitted access to their own gardens.  It was also why she and Harry had no Apparation point on their properties (although Harry had designed his own wards so that he alone could Apparate in and out of them), allowing Floo access only, and then there were wards to ensure that only certain people could get through without permission.

As much as she was aware of all of that, she was waiting for the right time to show them to Harry and Draco.  She knew they both had a lot on their plates, and she hadn’t wanted to disturb them with a few nasty notes.  They all regularly received actual death threats and cursed letters, after all, so these seemed almost innocuous by comparison.

Her afternoon classes went by in a blur, and she found herself at loose ends.  She couldn’t go to the Burrow because of the party preparations she wasn’t supposed to know about, and Neville and Harry were both going to be at the Burrow.  Draco, as far as she knew, was helping with the party by throwing money at it, judging by the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t tried to come up with a lame excuse for why he couldn’t entertain her, so she Flooed to the Ministry and went to his office.

She knocked three times on the open door, smiling when Draco looked up.

‘Can I come in?’

He smiled back and laid his quill down.  ‘Certainly.’

She made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs across the desk from him, and took a moment to observe him.  His cheeks seemed to have taken on a permanent pink hue, and even before he smiled at her, he’d been looking down at his budget reports with a lot more pleasure than was warranted.  His whole aspect was more relaxed and content than she’d ever seen him.

‘What?’ he prompted, reddening a little more.

Hermione shrugged.  ‘Nothing, just noticing how happy you look.’

His smile turned shy and secretive.  ‘Yeah, well…I owled Ginny to let her know how much I enjoyed our walk together, and she’s invited me to lunch tomorrow.’

She grinned widely.  ‘Very nice, very nice.  I told you she was interested.’

‘Yes, thank you, oh wise and powerful Hermione,’ he said dryly, but his happy expression remained firmly affixed.  ‘What would we ever do without you?’

‘Be single forever and ever, probably.’

He snorted and shook his head.  ‘So what brings you by?  I thought you were  _ super, super busy _ and that’s why you had to leave lunch early.’

Hermione chuckled.  ‘No, I had to leave lunch early so that you all wouldn’t expire from trying not to tell me about the party on Sunday.’

Draco’s jaw dropped.  ‘How did you know?!’

She smirked.  ‘It was kind of hard not to guess, when everyone starts squirming and looking really, really pleased with themselves whenever I show up, and when I mentioned making plans for the week-end, I thought Harry and Ron were going to burst a blood vessel from trying not to say anything.’

Draco grinned.  ‘That  _ was _ particularly evil of you.’

Her smirk grew.  She just shrugged innocently, though, and starting aligning Draco’s desk clutter by right angles.  He chuckled and stopped her from moving the picture frame.

‘How can I help you, Hermione?’ he said pointedly.

‘Well,’ she hedged, fidgeting.

He raised a brow.

‘I’m booooooooored,’ she whined.

He burst out laughing, rocking back in his chair.

‘What?  I’ve read every book I own multiple times, there’s nothing new at any of the bookshops, and I’ve done as much as I can on the project with Mandy until she is able to get back with me.  I graded all the homework, so I’ve got nothing to do.’

Draco continued to look greatly amused.  ‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’

‘Well, I thought that maybe we could have dinner and look over the ideas you and your father came up with for Wizarding Studies?’

She used her most pleading tone, and batted her eyelashes for good measure.  Draco shook his head and put away the reports, standing.

‘All right, but only because I gave the house elves the day off, so I need you to bring food,’ he said with mock sternness.

It was Hermione’s turn to gape.  ‘You  _ gave them _ the  _ day off _ ?’

Draco cleared his throat and wouldn’t look at her.  ‘Well, I was tired of them bothering me, you know.  And after that mess the twins made of my sitting room, it only seemed fair….’

Hermione spent a few minutes blinking, until Draco cleared his throat again.  Rousing herself, she followed him out of the office.

‘I’ll need to do some shopping first then,’ she said finally.  ‘Can I just use your kitchen, rather than transporting something from my house to yours?’

Draco shrugged.  ‘Go ahead.  What are you going to make?’

‘A pasta bake, if you don’t mind.  It’s fast and easy.’

‘I don’t know what a pasta bake is, so go right ahead.  I’m always up for an experiment,’ he added cheerfully.

She pursed her lips.  ‘How did your father feel about giving the house elves the day off?’

Draco glanced at her.  ‘I, uh, forgot to mention it to him,’ he mumbled.

She stopped walking, pulling him to a stop with her.  Fortunately, the hall they were in was empty, but she put up a quick privacy charm anyway.

‘Draco.  What do you think Lucius had for lunch?  Or for breakfast?’

He appeared to have been hit between the eyes with a blunt instrument.

‘They made breakfast before they left,’ he said slowly, ‘but I didn’t think about lunch….’

She let out an annoyed breath through her nose.  ‘I’m impressed and pleased that you thought about your house elves’ welfare.  Really, I am.  But you can’t keep doing things like this to your father.’

He scowled.  ‘Doing things like what?  Like, treating our servants kindly?  I’m sorry I forgot to tell him, but it’s not the end of the world!  I’ll make it up to him.  Or rather, you’ll make it up to him by feeding him and then he won’t be hungry anymore.’

Hermione had to resist the urge to stamp her foot, or to shake Draco with the pure frustration.  She also had to try very hard not to grind her teeth--having dentists for parents had taught her that that was not good.

‘I’m not talking about him missing a meal,’ she snapped, in spite of her attempts at control.  ‘He does that to himself often enough that he probably didn’t even notice.’

‘Then what  _ are _ you--’

‘I’m talking about you making major decisions without even consulting him!  Decisions, by the way, that  _ directly affect _ him!’

‘Hey, it was  _ your _ idea to invite the Weasleys over!’ he snarled back defensively.

‘But it was  _ not _ my idea to announce it to Lucius the way you did.  You just told him that we all were coming over,  _ whether he liked it or not _ , to use your own words.’

That brought Draco up short.  He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

‘And now you gave the house elves the day off and didn’t even remember to tell him, let alone ask him if he was okay with it,’ she went on, lowering her voice with an effort.  ‘And you ask me why he gets upset?  Why he stops talking to you and stops eating?’

He made an exasperated noise and ran a hand through his hair.  ‘Well, what am I supposed to do, ask his permission every time I do something?’ he demanded helplessly.

She shook her head.  ‘Not every time you do something, but every time you do something that’s going to affect him.  I’m also not saying that you have to ask his permission.  You’re an adult now, you can decide for yourself who you associate with and what you do with yourself.  What I  _ am _ saying is that you and Lucius would probably be on better terms more often if you told him what you were planning to do ahead of time and then asked if he was okay with it.’

He folded his arms, a slight pout emerging.  ‘And what if he says no?’

Hermione sighed, putting her hands on her hips.  ‘It’s called discussion, Draco.  Communication.  If he says no, he’s not okay with it, then you ask him why not.  You never know, he just might have a good reason.  And if he can’t come up with a good reason why not, then you tell him  _ your _ reasons, and see if you can’t change his mind.  If he can’t sway you and you can’t sway him, then you compromise.  It’s a term I believe you Slytherins are familiar with when you wish to be.’

He ducked his head, the pout more pronounced.  ‘I never claimed to be good at this.’

‘No one is asking you to be the most amazingly functional family ever within five minutes.  I’m just telling you what you can do to improve the situation.  Right now, you’re being Lord of the Manor and treating Lucius like his opinions don’t matter.’  She smiled wryly.  ‘And I’m sure some of them are less open-minded than we could wish.  But if you want him to stay on an even keel, you can’t keep lording over him.  Okay?’

‘Okay,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Good,’ said Hermione, and they kept walking.  ‘Am I still invited?’

Draco snorted.  ‘My father will starve if you don’t come, so yes.’  He paused.  ‘And unfortunately, I think you may have a point.  Why are you always right?’

‘Because I’m amazing,’ she said cheekily.

He snorted again and shook his head.  Hermione grinned, and they parted ways at the Floo center.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Either the house elves had stopped listening to him full stop, or they weren’t around today.  Whatever the reason, his summons went unanswered, so the library fireplace remained cold and empty.  Lucius stared at it anyway.  He was lying on his side, on the sofa he’d been occupying all day.  He was cold, but moving to get a blanket or some socks would require energy, so he resigned himself to being cold.  He had no idea what time it was, nor did he care.

‘Father?’

Draco’s voice echoed through the house.  He heard it move as Draco checked the sitting room and his bedroom.  He didn’t bother to answer.

‘Oh!  Father, there you are,’ Draco said with obvious relief.  ‘Didn’t you hear me calling?’

Lucius shrugged one shoulder.

Draco padded over and touched his cheek, his forehead, probably checking for fever.  He hissed in a breath.

‘You’re freezing!  Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?’

Lucius just grunted and blinked slowly at the empty fireplace.

Draco turned away and with a swish of his wand, there was a fire blazing in the hearth.  He walked over to a different sofa and retrieved a blanket off the back, which he laid over Lucius, before sitting on the floor beside him and rubbing Lucius’s hands between his vigorously.

Lucius let him do what he wanted.

‘Father?’ he prodded worriedly.  ‘Talk to me.  Has something happened?  Are you ill?’

Lucius pulled his tongue off the roof of his mouth with an effort.  ‘No.’

Draco arranged Lucius’s arms under the blanket and tucked it around his hands.  His brow was still wrinkled with concern.  He reached up and stroked Lucius’s hair back, as Lucius had done for him when he was sick as a child.

‘Father, please tell me what’s wrong,’ he pleaded softly.  ‘I want to help you.’

He couldn’t help the soft snort that escaped him then.  ‘You can’t help.  There’s nothing wrong,’ he lied, because everything was wrong.   _ He _ was wrong.

Draco shook his head.  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I gave the house elves the day off.  I should have asked you first.’

Lucius let his eyes slide back to the fire.  ‘I don’t care,’ he said flatly, because he didn’t.

A pause.  ‘I’ve invited Hermione over to talk about our project.  Is…is that okay?’

‘Sure,’ he said, because he still didn’t care.

Draco paused again.  ‘She’s going to make us dinner.’

Lucius’s eyes fastened immediately on Draco’s.  Draco gave a small smile.

‘There you are,’ he teased gently, as though Lucius hadn’t been lying there the whole time.  ‘She’s going to make us something called a pasta bake.  I have no idea what it is.’

Lucius’s stomach stirred for the first time all day.

‘It will be good,’ he asserted, and stiffly moved to sit up.

Draco hopped to his feet and fluttered around him nervously.  ‘Father, you don’t have to get up if you don’t feel like it--’

‘If Miss Granger is going to be here, I need to be at least somewhat presentable,’ Lucius interrupted, casting the blanket aside and forcing himself to his feet.  ‘As someone pointed out to me recently, Malfoys don’t entertain in bare feet.’

Draco had the grace to look abashed.  ‘I’m sure she would understand….’

‘She can’t see me like this,’ Lucius snapped defensively, and hurried from the room.

It was bad enough that Draco had seen him being weak again, but at least he was family.  He couldn’t bear it if anyone else saw him moping around, being weak and pathetic.

He went up to his room and changed his rumpled clothing, brushing out his mussed hair and donning some socks and shoes.  He didn’t need to be as finely arrayed as he had been for the dinner party, but he needed to at least look as good as he did when he went to class.

He was just in time, too, because he was smoothing back his hair with his tonic when he heard Granger’s voice echo in the hallway downstairs.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘How is he?’ Hermione asked without preamble when she arrived.

Draco’s distress was pretty blatant, and could really only have two sources.  Since she didn’t think Ginny would turn around and cancel that quickly, that left only one other person.

He sighed.  ‘Better, now that he knows you’re coming and making dinner.’

He took one of the two bags from her and led the way to the kitchen.

‘But he wasn’t good before,’ she surmised, and did not examine why the knowledge that she was making him food had improved Lucius’s mood.

‘He was lying on a sofa in the library, staring into space,’ Draco said glumly.  ‘He was freezing cold and wouldn’t move or talk.  I have no idea how long he’d been there.’

This was worrying.  Lucius’s high points seemed to be getting higher, but his lows were lower than they’d been since Draco took the alcohol away.

‘Were you able to get him to tell you why?’ she asked with a frown as they arrived and set the bags down on the counter.

‘No.  He kept insisting there wasn’t a problem, and he didn’t even seem to care that I gave the house elves the day off.  Although I’m sure the missed meal didn’t help.’  He frowned, rubbing his jaw.  ‘He didn’t seem to care about anything at all, until I mentioned that you were making dinner.’

Again, Hermione shook that off.  If she thought about it at all, she would only overthink it.  Obviously, Lucius just enjoyed home-cooked meals.

‘Maybe you should ask Mrs Weasley to bring him some lunches sometime,’ she suggested doubtfully.  ‘It would be a little company during the day, and he seems to enjoy food that isn’t made by house elves.’

Draco cocked his head.  ‘You don’t sound sure of that idea.’

She waved a hand and continued unpacking her supplies.  ‘It’s Mrs Weasley.  I’m not sure how he’ll react to her on her own,’ she half-lied.

She didn’t express or even acknowledge to herself the niggling doubt that whispered it was  _ Hermione’s _ cooking that Lucius liked.  The very idea was absurd.

He mulled that over for a moment.  ‘I’ll have to ask him, but I think he has less of a problem with Molly than he does any of the rest of them.  At least he appreciates her ability to keep the twins in line--most of the time.’

Lucius himself appeared in the doorway then, and Hermione was glad she’d kept the door in her sights so she saw his approach this time.

‘The key phrase there is “most of the time”,’ he drawled, ‘as our sitting room would attest.’

Draco smiled.  ‘Agreed.’

Lucius offered her a small bow, an abbreviated version of the one the Malfoys normally used.

‘Miss Granger.’

She smiled.  ‘Mr Malfoy.’

His eyes grazed over the counters.  ‘That is a lot of food.  Exactly what does this “pasta bake” entail?’

Her smile widened, and she touched each package as she identified it.  ‘Ground beef.  Bow-tie pasta.  Puréed tomatoes.  Various spices.  Mozzarella cheese.  Green onions.  And then, to go with it, bread, which I’m going to turn into cheesy garlic bread.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and his eyes were a little brighter.

There had been no sign of his earlier state except his eyes, she realised.  He was once again the immaculate and elegant Mr Malfoy, except his eyes, which had been flat and dull.  She only noticed now, when they started to come alive again.  Again, she wondered how he managed to appear so arrogant and sophisticated after lying on a sofa and refusing to move less than a half hour ago.  It was almost a superpower, and it made her wonder just how often she’d looked at him and seen only cold superiority when something very different was going on underneath.

She shook the thoughts away and continued preparing, getting some water boiling and getting the ground beef started browning.

‘Did Draco tell you we’re going to be working on our project after dinner?’ she asked, not looking up from her preparations.

‘I did,’ said Draco.

‘Don’t worry,’ Lucius drawled.  ‘I will make myself scarce after we’ve eaten.’

She glanced up in surprise.  He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded, appearing very nonchalant, but his eyes had darkened again.

‘Actually, I was going to ask if you would mind joining us,’ she said, allowing her surprise to filter into her voice.  ‘Draco tells me that you’ve made a very thorough list, and I’d really like it if we could discuss your ideas with you.’

Lucius had been playing the game a lot longer than she had; the only sign of his own surprise was that his brows rose by a hair’s-breadth.  The shadow faded from his eyes again.

‘I would consider it an honour, Miss Granger,’ he said, his voice very deep and smooth.

She couldn’t tell if he was sincere or not, so she accepted it at face value.  She also very fiercely ignored the funny fluttery feeling that had developed in her stomach when he spoke.

‘Good,’ she said firmly, and Draco changed the subject to something that had happened at work.

She only managed to half-listen, her attention divided by cooking, and the sudden awareness she had of Lucius’s proximity.

It had nothing to do with fear.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Dinner went over very well, especially with Lucius, and then they retired to the sitting room.  Much to Hermione’s surprise, Lucius and Draco were the ones who started arguing over the merits of teaching certain things, like  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard _ , which Lucius insisted was a stupid, boring, insipid collection of nonsense, and Draco insisted was a valid thing to teach because all wizarding children grew up with those stories, so it would help Muggle-borns with context.  Hermione had pointed out that she taught a few Muggle fairy tales in her class, but then had stayed well out of it as neither one of them seemed inclined to listen to her.

She stirred her tea and watched with amusement.  It was like a tennis match.

She also was taking the time to reflect a little.  The realisation in the kitchen that she had lost her fear of Lucius had startled her so much that she nearly chopped off her finger.  It had then broadened into an awareness that she was not afraid of Malfoy Manor anymore.  The sensation of having a crawling itch at the back of her mind had fled, and she was trying to peg down when it had happened.

Her best guess as far as the Manor at large went was that she’d stopped being afraid because of the dinner party.  She’d been relaxed, happy, and welcome, and she’d even got something resembling an apology from Lucius.

Lucius himself was a different matter, and it actually worried her that she looked at him and felt no fear.  She’d only been teaching him for two weeks; she couldn’t afford to lose that extra layer of caution.  Just because she knew he was currently depressed and lonely shouldn’t have influenced her so much.  She also knew that he was only being civil to her because he currently had no other options.

She admonished herself to be more careful of him again, trying to stir up the wariness she’d felt before.  It did not work.

This newfound confidence that Lucius would never harm her had come from nowhere, and she had no assurances that in June, when his wand was restored, he wouldn’t turn on her.  She had no right to have such faith in him--she barely knew him!  Yet there it was, an unshakable, steady feeling that she was safe with him.

This was not good.

‘Earth to Hermione!’

She started, then wandlessly vanished the tea she’d spilled.  ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

Draco frowned at her.  ‘Unhappy thoughts?’

She tried to muster a smile.  ‘A little.  They’re gone now, don’t worry.  What did I miss?’

‘We’ve agreed to let you decide about  _ Beedle the Bard _ ,’ he said glumly.  ‘Although Father still thinks they’re rubbish.  Why did you and Mother read them to me if they were so awful, may I ask?’

‘It’s tradition,’ Lucius sniffed.

‘If you think a tradition is horrible, you  _ throw it away _ ,’ Draco argued.

Lucius opened his mouth, visibly bristling, and Hermione quickly interceded.

‘Let’s just not discuss the merits of tradition right now.  How about we instead talk about how to teach Muggle-borns about the Statute of Secrecy in a way they’ll understand?  I see that’s near the top of your list, Mr Malfoy.’

The two Malfoys shot each other dark looks, but otherwise allowed the subject change.  Hermione hoped that didn’t mean they were going to start screaming at one another as soon as she left, but there was very little she could do about it if they did.

It was a problem she hadn’t foreseen when Draco was pulling his head out of his backside and learning to treat everyone with respect.  He was now seeing the world in a totally new way, a way that was completely different from what his father believed and had raised him to believe.  More than just the surface level of not treating Muggle-borns and so-called ‘blood traitors’ like trash, Draco was essentially saying that pure-blood traditions were stupid and should be cast aside like last week’s fruitcake.  Even if he didn’t mean  _ all _ of the traditions, that was undoubtedly how it had come off to Lucius, and she didn’t see how they were going to reconcile their differing world views.

It made her feel a little guilty for her part in it, but she couldn’t very well say that Draco ought to go back to being the self-righteous bigot he’d been before, so there was nothing she could do to help.  As with the Weasleys, she had to accept that there were some battles that were not hers to fight, and she couldn’t aid the combatants.  It was very hard for Hermione, meddling do-gooder that she was, to swallow, but she liked to think she was getting better at it.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius half expected Draco to pick up where they’d left off when Hermione departed, but he didn’t.  Instead, he told him about his date with Ginny Weasley the following day, so Lucius’s relief was mixed with despair.

‘It’s only for lunch, so I won’t be gone that long,’ Draco said for about the fiftieth time as they headed for bed.

‘I think I’ll survive,’ Lucius replied dryly.

‘Are you sure?’

He stopped, his hand on the stair rail, and looked at Draco quizzically.  His son was wringing his hands and chewing his lip, and generally looking like a worried mess.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Lucius demanded, genuinely confused.

Draco swallowed.  ‘Well…this afternoon, you….’

Lucius winced at the reminder.  This was why he usually hid in his room.  No one needed to see his weakness.

‘I just don’t want you to…do anything,’ Draco went on in a strained voice.  ‘Do anything, you know,  _ bad _ , if you’re, uh…upset, and I’m not here.’

Lucius blinked at him, trying to comprehend this strange sentiment, and not succeeding.

‘Bad?’ he echoed, quite lost.

Draco squirmed.  ‘You know.  Like, if you decide life isn’t worth living anymore….’

It clicked.  ‘I’m not going to kill myself!’ he exploded.  ‘Why would I do that?!  Why would you even  _ think _ that?!’

Draco looked miserable.  ‘I just worry, about you.  You seem so….  I just…don’t know what you’re thinking, sometimes, and I don’t know how to help.’

Lucius’s jaw worked.  ‘Well, I’m fine.  I don’t need your help.  And I am  _ not _ going to  _ kill _ myself.  Do you understand?’

How could he atone for anything if he was dead?  How would being dead improve the situation at all?  If he wanted to be dead, he wouldn’t wake up terrified every night from the dreams of dying in Azkaban.

Draco did not look appeased.  ‘May I have your word on that?’

He spoke through clenched teeth.  ‘You have my word.  I am not going to kill myself.’

Draco studied him for a moment, then nodded once.  Lucius turned away from him and continued up the stairs.

It had never even occurred to him, actually.  Lucius admitted that he was being pathetic.  He was miserable right now, and most of the time he hated himself, now that Granger and the crazy girl had apparently opened some kind of floodgate inside him that  _ made _ him acknowledge how he was feeling.  But he’d never once wanted to die.  He wanted to atone for his sins, he wanted to help the people who were still around that he’d hurt, and he couldn’t do that if he was dead.

Above all, no matter how much he probably deserved to die, Lucius wanted to live more than anything.  The drive for survival was very strong, and he couldn’t imagine a circumstance in which he wouldn’t want to keep on breathing.  Even with the Dark Lord in his house, breathing down his neck, he had still found the will to keep going.  If that didn’t make him want to kill himself, nothing would.

He was so riled that sleep was elusive, and when it did come, the nightmare inevitably came with it.

He didn’t realise that he’d forgotten to lock the door this time until, at the same moment in the nightmare when he breathed water, hands closed around his shoulders and he was shaken awake.

His eyes snapped open but didn’t focus immediately.  He was shaking again, sweat-soaked, his heart pounding and breathing heavily.

‘Father, look at me!’

It was Draco, and he sounded panicked.  Lucius squinted and his eyes focused, finally.

‘I don’t want to die, Draco,’ he choked out miserably.

Draco pulled him up against him, wrapped his arms tightly around him.  Lucius saw that Draco’s hands were trembling, too, but he was shaking so badly himself that he couldn’t feel Draco’s tremors.

‘I know,’ Draco mumbled into his hair.  ‘I know you don’t want to die.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I said that.’

Other than Granger’s visit, today had been a really, really bad day.  Lucius buried his face in Draco’s shirt and made no attempt to extricate himself from the hug this time.  His breathing slowed gradually, but he still shook with fear and exhaustion.

‘Don’t leave me,’ he pleaded in a very small voice.

Draco hugged him tighter and started to rock him.  ‘Never, Father.’


	6. Birthday Weekend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius recovers from his breakdown with Hermione's help. Draco hovers and has a date. Hermione enjoys her birthday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot to say about this one, I guess. The facts Lucius recites were either things that are common knowledge or they were on Wikipedia. Mostly, I just wanted to show Hermione and Lucius getting along alone, outside of a classroom setting, and not because Lucius was hiding from the Weasleys this time. ;) I enjoyed writing that bit, so hopefully you'll enjoy reading it.

Lucius felt…fragile the next day.  He could think of no other way to describe it.  Tears always seemed embarrassingly close to the surface, and he felt shaky and nervous.  Draco watched him with sympathetic wariness for most of the morning, particularly after Lucius couldn’t seem to eat.  He’d tried, so that Draco wouldn’t be worried, but his stomach seemed to knot up after a few bites of toast, and he had to give up, because vomiting would be even more embarrassing.  The food didn’t taste like anything anyway.

Draco ensconced him in the library with a blanket and a roaring fire, and very kindly didn’t say anything when Lucius couldn’t thank him without choking up a little.  It was stupid, and humiliating, and he hated it, but he couldn’t seem to get himself back under control.  He tried to read, but the words didn’t register.  He kept up the charade anyway, so Draco wouldn’t worry even more.

‘When are you supposed to leave for your date?’ he asked quietly when it was nearing noon.

Draco checked his watch.  ‘In about…twenty minutes.  Father, I can cancel if you’d--’

‘No, no.  Go.  Have fun.  Buy her flowers.’

Draco just stared at him with that worried look.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he insisted, drawing himself up a bit.  ‘I think I can be by myself for an hour or two.’

‘I don’t feel right, leaving you alone….’

‘Where can you find a babysitter at this late notice?’ Lucius joked.

A light seemed to dawn for his son, and he grinned.  Lucius had a very bad feeling.

‘Hermione Granger is bored this week-end,’ Draco said wickedly.  ‘I’ll bet she’d hop over.’

‘Draco,  _ no _ \--’

‘I’m going to ask!’

‘She won’t want to--’

‘You don’t know!’

And Draco ran out of the room.  Lucius dropped his book in his lap and folded his arms with an exasperated sigh.  Couldn’t Draco tell when he heard  _ a joke _ anymore?

Draco returned practically bouncing with excitement.  ‘She says that she’ll come if you’re all right with entertaining her for a while, and if you say yes she wants to know what you want for lunch.’

Well…that altered matters slightly.  He sighed in defeat.  At the very least, it was an opportunity to ask her for help with his final project.

‘I don’t know how entertaining I’ll be, but she may come over,’ he said grudgingly.  ‘And tell her I usually just have whatever sandwich the house elves deign to give me for lunch.’

Draco sped out of the room with very little dignity.  Lucius shook his head with another sigh.  He wasn’t moving this time.  He was comfortable, and the meddlesome witch could bloody well deal with his bare feet and shirtsleeves.  His feet were hidden by the blanket anyway.

Although, he was blaming the wrong person.  Draco just had to take everything so literally!

Granger arrived alone, carrying a cloth tote.  She smiled apologetically and put her free hand in her pocket.  She was wearing some rather scruffy Muggle clothes--jeans and an old, fraying jumper.  She looked very natural and relaxed.  


‘Draco sends his love, but he was going to be late if he didn’t go and he wanted to still have time to pick up flowers,’ she recited.  Then she noticed his gaze and looked down at herself briefly.  ‘Sorry.  I didn’t have time to change, and these are my Saturday “lying around the house” comfy clothes.’

Lucius shrugged slightly.  ‘I’m hardly dressed for company, either.  Draco didn’t give either of us much choice.’

She chuckled.  ‘No, he really didn’t.  He is a force of nature when he wants to be.  Why did he want me over here so badly, anyway?’

He huffed out a breath.  ‘He didn’t bother to tell you?  I had a…bad moment last night, and now he thinks I’ll break if I’m left alone for more than five minutes,’ he admitted uncomfortably.  ‘I’m still a little…off-balance today.’

She grimaced.  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.  Is there anything I can do?’

Lucius shook his head, but was inexplicably warmed by the question.

‘Well, I’ll just go fix us up some lunch and then I’ll be back.’

She flounced out of the room when he nodded, and he laid his head back.  He was tired, and that was a big part of the problem.  Dealing with all of those people on Thursday had taken more mental energy than he cared to admit.  And he so rarely got a restful night’s sleep anymore.  Draco’s offer of Dreamless Sleep potion was becoming very, very tempting, but he was afraid of growing dependent on it, especially now, when his nightly terror seemed to be getting worse, not better.  Draco had spent the rest of last night with him and ended up waking him twice more when the nightmare took hold again.

Lucius couldn’t help but make the connection between last night’s increased frequency and his realisation during the day that he was a very, very bad person--a monster, almost.  It seemed that even his subconscious agreed that he deserved to be punished much more harshly than he was.

He closed his eyes--just for a moment--and then woke to the sublime smell of something hot and cheesy.  He lifted his head to see Granger hovering uncertainly in the doorway with two plates.

‘I wasn’t sleeping,’ he said defensively, pulling himself into a more upright position.

Granger’s uncertainty evaporated and she crossed to his side, extending one plate to him.

‘Of course you weren’t,’ she agreed easily.  ‘There’s no harm in resting your eyes when you’ve been reading.’

‘Exactly.’

He took the plate and examined the two sandwiches and small pile of crisps.  He’d never eaten crisps before, because it was Muggle food, but it did make the sandwiches seem less lonely.

Granger settled into the armchair Draco had been occupying earlier and put her feet up on the ottoman with a sigh of contentment.  A thick red book had emerged from the tote or her other bag at some point.

‘What kind of sandwiches are these?’ he asked.

He didn’t want to bite into it and get a nasty surprise--like bologna.   _ Yuck . _

‘Oh, one is grilled ham and cheddar, and the other is grilled turkey and swiss.  I wasn’t sure what you’d like.’

Lucius mulled that over for a second before giving an approving nod.  Neither of those seemed offensive.  His stomach was still uneasy, though, so he ate a lot slower than he would’ve liked.  The taste was divine, as always when Granger made something, except for the crisps, which he assumed were store-bought, since they had that foil-and-plastic taste.  Either that, or crisps always tasted like that.  He wouldn’t know.

He actually wondered why Granger had chosen to become a teacher and not a chef.  She outstripped the house elves by lengths, and he would’ve gladly eaten at her restaurant, Muggle-born or no.

Then he closed his eyes at his own thought, letting out a slow breath.  He had to stop thinking like that, if he was to make amends and regain Draco’s respect.  The fact that she was a Muggle-born had to stop factoring into his thoughts at all.

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.  He had a lifetime to overcome.

‘Is everything all right?’

He looked at her quickly, warily.  ‘Yes, just…an unpleasant thought.’

She nodded her understanding and went back to her own food and book.  Lucius watched her for a moment, unaware that one corner of his mouth curled up with something like fond amusement.  She was happily munching, one foot turning back and forth like a very rapid pendulum as she read.

He…appreciated her.  Unlike Draco, who was well-meaning but smothering, Granger had accepted his answer graciously, evidently believing that Lucius would tell her if something truly was wrong.  She respected his space and his privacy despite having come at Draco’s behest, offering company if he wanted it simply by being there, but otherwise not intruding.  He picked up his own book and found that he could actually read it this time, enjoying the silent but steady company beside him, something deep inside him unclenching just a little.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘What are you reading?’

Hermione started.  They’d been sitting, each quietly absorbed in their own reading, for over an hour, and Lucius’s question had come out of nowhere.  He was watching her expectantly, one finger stuck in his own book to mark his place.  Apparently, he was in need of a break.

She jammed a finger in her book, too, letting it fall into her lap with a thump.

‘ _ The Lord of the Rings _ ,’ she said, slightly dreading his reaction when she had to explain that it was a Muggle book.  ‘It’s a fiction novel.’

‘I have never heard of it,’ said Lucius, after thinking for a moment.

She drew a slow breath.  ‘It was written by a Muggle.  J. R. R. Tolkien.’

‘Ah.’

And that was it.  No snide comment, no sneer, just a slight nod of comprehension.

‘What is it about?’

Hermione blinked away her surprise.  ‘Um.  It’s about a Dark Lord’--she pretended not to notice when Lucius went white--‘who wants to take over a place called Middle-earth, but in order to do that, he needs his magic ring, but it just so happens that he can’t find it, because a creature called a Hobbit has it.  The Hobbit’s name is Frodo, and he takes on the quest to venture into the Dark Lord Sauron’s realm and destroy the ring.’

Lucius frowned.  ‘Why does he have to go to Sauron’s realm to do that?’

‘Well, it can only be destroyed by really, really hot and powerful fire.  They haven’t got any dragons lying around, so the only place it can be destroyed is in the volcano, Mount Doom, where it was forged in the first place, and that’s in Sauron’s realm.’  She paused.  ‘I heard recently that they’re making a film based on the book, and that made me want to re-read it.’

‘What’s a film?’

Hermione smiled.  ‘You’ll find out later in the term.  For now, suffice to say that it’s the Muggle version of pictures that move.’

‘I see.’

He’d probably been in enough Muggle houses to have noticed that their pictures were generally not given to moving.

‘Does Frodo manage to destroy it?’ he asked after a moment of frowning, apparently contemplating.

Hermione debated how to answer that.  ‘No,’ she admitted finally.  ‘He doesn’t.’

Lucius’s frown deepened.  ‘Then Sauron wins and takes over the world?’ he demanded, an incredulous edge in his voice.  ‘Why would you read such a depressing book?’

She laughed.  ‘Oh, Sauron doesn’t win.  It’s bittersweet, but it’s not depressing.’

Then she gnawed her lip for a moment.  She really, really didn’t want to be snapped at, but he seemed genuinely interested….

‘You could…borrow it sometime,’ she offered tentatively.  ‘If you want.’

Lucius blinked at her.  Her stomach dropped and she wished she could rewind the last forty seconds and un-say that.

‘Perhaps,’ he said at last, and Hermione breathed again.

‘What is  _ your _ book about?’ she returned, feeling a bit bolder.

He tapped his leg with the book, once, and looked at her wryly.  ‘It’s a fiction novel.’

A smile slowly spread across her face.  The sight of it seemed to ease him.

‘A young wizard goes on a quest to find the Firebird, to save his dying wife.’  He paused.  ‘I, too, am revisiting an old favourite.  Draco hates it.’

‘Really?  Why?’

‘He says it’s depressing,’ said Lucius, with another wry smile, ‘but I say it’s bittersweet.’

Hermione giggled--she couldn’t help it.  ‘I see, I see.  So he doesn’t find the Firebird?’

‘Oh, no, he finds the bird, but his wife still dies.’

She frowned a little.  ‘That  _ is _ depressing.’

Lucius shook his head.  ‘Saving his wife wasn’t actually the point of the book.  You’d have to read it to understand.’  He hesitated.  ‘You could…borrow it,’ he added, mimicking her own tentative offer.

‘I’d like that,’ she said warmly, feeling a little more touched than was probably warranted.

To her surprise, he looked away like he was embarrassed and flipped his book back open.  He didn’t start reading again, though, so she didn’t, either, studying his face while she waited for him to say whatever was on his mind.

She could see why Draco had been so worried.  Today, Lucius had not pulled himself back together the way he always did after a bout of depression.  His face was drawn, he hadn’t shaved, his hair was obviously brushed but still appeared scraggly and unkempt, like he hadn’t put much effort into it.  He was pallid and sickly-looking, and there were dark smudges beneath his slightly-sunken eyes, eyes that had no spark or depth at all today, instead appearing watery and pale.  She felt a tug in the region of her heart and was moved to pity, but she was careful to keep it covered.  Neither of the Malfoys appreciated pity, Lucius least of all.

‘Miss Granger…’ he began reluctantly.

‘Hermione,’ she corrected.

Lucius’s eyes snapped to hers.  She made a deliberate effort to smile innocently.

‘We’re not in class.  You can call me Hermione, if you want to,’ she said with a casual ease she didn’t really feel.

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally said, ‘What I’m about to ask you has to do with class, though.’

She shoved the disappointment that she definitely shouldn’t be feeling under a mental rug and kept smiling.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, I….’  His face twisted slightly as he struggled with something--his pride, or the correct wording, or something else she couldn’t see.  ‘I need…your help.  I can’t come up with a topic for the final project.’

That explained his difficulty getting the request out.  She wondered how much it had cost his pride to ask a Muggle-born for help.

‘You don’t wonder anything about Muggles?’ she asked lightly.

Lucius scowled.  ‘No.  And I don’t know where to  _ start _ wondering about them.  I tried looking through the textbook, as you suggested, but it just left me more at a loss than before,’ he admitted sourly.

Hermione’s smile became more genuine at the pouty tone.  He very strongly reminded her of Draco in his less-pleasant years at times like this, and it was extremely amusing.  It was also more touching than it should’ve been that he’d tried her suggestion before asking for help, and she sternly reminded herself that she was both his teacher and someone he considered an enemy, and she needed to be more wary.

It was just hard, when he was sitting there looking so haggard and fragile.

‘You have plenty of time to think about it, Mr Malfoy,’ she reminded him gently.  ‘You don’t have to have an idea until Christmas, and it’s only mid-September.  If you want to think about it some more--’

‘I want to get it approved as quickly as possible so I can get it done ahead of time,’ he interrupted agitatedly.

And now Hermione was reminded of herself.  It was…surreal, actually.  And it made her wonder….

‘How many seats are there in Parliament?’ she shot off, in her most strict teacher voice.

‘1,495,’ Lucius replied succinctly.

‘What is the American system of government called?’

‘A presidential democracy.’

‘What year was the first Muggle radio news program broadcast?’

‘1920.’

‘Who invented the first patented telephone?’

‘Alexander Graham Bell.’

‘How do you operate a mobile telephone?’

‘Ensure that it is on and operational, dial the number that you want, and press the button that says “talk” or has a picture of a rotary telephone on it.’

‘How many chapters ahead are you?’

‘Three.’

Hermione grinned, the teacher’s rare thrill of having a good, dedicated student making her a bit light-headed for a moment; Lucius smirked back at her.  In truth, two of those answers could only be found in the footnotes, which they were not required to read, and Hermione didn’t test for them.  He had just unintentionally admitted to going above and beyond the required reading.

‘Well,’ said Hermione, a tad breathlessly.  ‘Well.’

He raised a brow at her.

‘Sorry,’ she said sheepishly.  ‘Most of my students are, like you, required to be there, and they make it very plain that they don’t want to be by being as un-engaged as possible.  It’s rare for me to find a student so…well-prepared.’

‘If I fail, I go to Azkaban,’ he reminded her dryly.  ‘I have a unique motivation that your other students do not share.’

She still couldn’t stop grinning.  ‘The Goyles share it, and I’ve had to go over to their house on six separate occasions to help them.  They’re behind a chapter, actually, even with my help and helping each other.’

Lucius was unimpressed.  ‘They’re Goyles.  They’re morons.  I’m insulted that you’d even think to compare me with them.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, but she wasn’t.

He snorted and shook his head, but seemed to accept her apology at face value anyway.

‘Will you help me or not?’ he demanded testily, fiddling with his blanket and not looking at her.

She softened.  ‘Of course I’ll help you.’

Actually, it gave her a rather awful, wonderful idea that would hopefully kill two birds with one stone.  She might not be able to pull it off, though, so she kept it to herself for the time being.

‘I’ll have to brainstorm for a while and get back to you,’ she said after a moment.  ‘If I come up with anything that’s too  _ me _ , people will think I did it for you, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.’

He conceded that point.  ‘You’ll owl me a list?’

She snorted.  ‘I’ll give it to Draco when I see him, and he can give it to you.  Owls are impersonal, and somewhat dangerous these days,’ she added darkly.

Lucius’s surprise was evident.  ‘Oh?’

‘Hasn’t Draco mentioned to you?  We’ve all been getting cursed letters and death threats ever since the war ended,’ she explained, frowning at the thought of her ominous notes.  ‘You’d probably be getting them, too, if Draco wasn’t blocking all owls for the two of you and having the Ministry intercept them first.  It’s routine now to check every letter you get for hexes and curses before you even touch it.  Most of us just Floo call if we have something to say, and if we miss each other, it’ll keep until later.  In an emergency, we would just send Patronus messages anyway.’

Lucius blinked.  ‘Draco can do that, too?’

‘What, cast a Patronus?’  She had the sudden feeling that she’d just stepped on a landmine.  ‘Yes, he can.  He learned last year, when Harry asked for his help with destroying the Dementors.’

She had very definitely ventured into dangerous territory.  Lucius had turned another shade whiter, and his expression was lost and a touch hurt.

‘I didn’t know he helped with that,’ he said faintly.  ‘He never told me.’

Hermione felt sick with guilt.  ‘The two of you weren’t, exactly…on the best of terms then.  I’m sure it just slipped his mind after….’

He shook his head minutely.  ‘What form is his Patronus?’

She had to think.  Fortunately, it had been a very long time since any of them had had to use them.

‘It’s a horse, I think.  It’s been a long time, and Ginny’s is also a horse, so I might be confusing the two of them.’

He nodded vaguely, his brow furrowing.  ‘I never could cast it.’

The admission was soft and almost Luna-like, as though he didn’t know he was saying it aloud.  Hermione frowned at him and wondered how or even if she should respond, but fortunately, Draco returned at that moment.

‘Father, Hermione,’ he greeted, floating in on a cloud of oblivious joy.  ‘I just had the most amazing lunch ever.’

This time, Hermione got to see the transformation at work.  Lucius’s expression was lost and unfocused one moment, and the next, a mask seemed to slide over his entire body.  He straightened, his eyes sharpened, his expression was once again cool and controlled arrogance.  Even his shirt seemed to gain a little starch, the collar stiffening up, which she knew was actually impossible, but it was the impression he gave.  It was a near-instantaneous, smooth, and awe-inspiring thing to see.  She admitted to being a little jealous; she’d never been as bad as Harry, but she’d never come within miles of showing the kind of emotional control Lucius had just displayed.

‘Oh?’ he inquired politely.

‘Yeah,’ said Draco dreamily, and collapsed into a chair with a silly, sloppy smile on his face.

Hermione laughed at him with no compunction whatsoever.  ‘You look like a doofus.’

She was more than a little annoyed that she’d unintentionally upset Lucius because of Draco’s lack of communication, and she was getting tired of fixing all of their father-son relationship problems in general.  She didn’t mind helping, but she didn’t like being the scapegoat who took the brunt of Lucius’s reaction when he found out things from her that Draco should have told him.

‘Hmm,’ Draco hummed, and continued to smile stupidly.

‘What happened to make it so amazing?’ Lucius asked with remarkable restraint, in Hermione’s opinion.

‘She kissed me,’ Draco said, sounding dazed.  ‘And she said she’d like to see me again.’

‘We’re all going to see each other tomorrow,’ Hermione pointed out as she packed up her things.

‘Don’t be obtuse,’ he replied a little sharply, seeming to come out of his lovelorn trance a little.  ‘You know what she meant.  Anyway, how did the two of you get on?’

She smiled and hefted her bag and tote onto her shoulder.  ‘We were fine.’

‘It was fine,’ Lucius agreed.

Draco looked doubtful.  ‘Oh.  Well…good, then.’

She took her leave, then, and shook her head as she heard Draco immediately begin grilling Lucius about how he was feeling and if she’d fed him and if she’d let him sleep.

If she were Lucius, she reflected, she would have long since slapped him upside the head.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius felt better the next day, and what he really wanted was to sleep.  He was facing an unforeseen complication, however, in the form of Draco.

‘I  _ really _ don’t think I should go,’ he was babbling, ‘there won’t be anyone here but house elves, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, and Hermione will understand if I’m not there--’

Enough was enough.

‘DRACO!’

He sputtered to a halt and stared at him wide-eyed.  Lucius let out a little sigh and spoke more calmly, now that he had his son’s undivided attention--with his mouth  _ shut _ for the first time all morning.

‘Go to the party.  Have fun.  I will be fine.  I don’t need you to babysit me all day.  Please,  _ please _ go.’

Draco accidentally mussed his hair running a hand through it.  ‘But, I--’

‘If you don’t  _ want _ to go, that’s different,’ Lucius argued.  ‘But if you’re only staying because you think I can’t fend for myself for a few hours, then I am  _ begging _ you,  _ please _ go to the party.’

He slumped guiltily.  ‘I do want to go, it’s just--’

Lucius put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, turned him, and steered him into the hallway, toward the entrance hall.

‘Then go.  Stay as long as you want.  Have a good time.  Dance with your Weasley.  Eat a slice of cake for me.’

Draco stopped in front of the fireplace, still looking unsure.

‘And you’ll  _ really _ be okay while I’m gone?’ he asked uncertainly.

Lucius smiled, sensing that triumph was near.  ‘Really, really.  I’m going to catch up on my reading, maybe write to an old friend or two.’

He brightened.  ‘Oh.’  Then his brow wrinkled again.  ‘Not the evil kind of friends, right?’

Lucius restrained himself from rolling his eyes with an effort.  ‘No, not the evil kind.  The political kind, who stayed neutral.’

‘Oh,’ he said again, and he stayed brighter this time.  ‘I’ll bring a slice of cake back for you.’

He disappeared with a pop, and Lucius nearly collapsed with a relief.   _ Finally _ , a little peace and quiet.

He dragged himself up to bed and slept for three hours straight, too exhausted even for nightmares.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione didn’t have to pretend to be surprised, because the party started with a  _ literal _ bang, courtesy of Fred and George.  She laughed herself silly at the bright pink and green otters adorning every surface of the Burrow’s living room while Mrs Weasley scolded them roundly.  The explosion at Malfoy Manor had apparently been a test run.

After they were set to cleaning, she endured Ginny putting a paper and cardboard tiara on her head, and everyone singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of their lungs (Fred and George choosing to sing it to the tune of ‘The Saints Go Marching In’).  Draco turned up late, but as he didn’t seem upset this time, she didn’t make it her job to corner him and demand answers this time.  Ginny pounced on him readily enough, which he seemed to enjoy, and Hermione was actually able to relax and enjoy herself.

They had a gigantic meal, courtesy of Mrs Weasley, and then they were expected to cram a slice of cake into their stomachs, which proved a challenge.  They sat around talking and recovering for a while after that, before the boys and Ginny decided to play some friendly Quidditch while the weather was still nice.  Hermione didn’t object, and moved out into the sunshine to enjoy the weather in her own way.  Mrs Weasley, Neville and Luna were on the ground to keep her company, and she was glad to see her friends enjoying themselves.

‘Draco and Ginny seem…close today,’ Neville commented, watching them out-fly Percy for the Quaffle.

Hermione darted a glance at him, but she saw no jealousy, just curiosity.  ‘Yes, they had lunch together yesterday.  The date kind of lunch.’

‘Ah,’ said Neville, nodding.  ‘Any hope for them?’

‘I think they want to make it work,’ she said diplomatically.

It was a little early to tell, given that they had literally only been on one date, but she was very hopeful, given how happy the two of them looked.

‘Harry hasn’t mentioned anyone recently,’ Mrs Weasley put in, looking worried.

Hermione chuckled.  ‘I think Harry’s enjoying being alone right now.  He doesn’t have anyone depending on him or asking anything of him, and he can just focus on Teddy and Andromeda, his friends, and his Auror training.  He might never be with anyone--not everyone is meant for someone.’

The thought saddened her a little.  She’d had a few interested suitors in school--Viktor, and the repulsive Cormac--but she’d had only fame seekers after her since then.  She knew it was a little too early to call it quits, but it was a little discouraging when the only people who seemed interested in you were interested because of your friends and because you were a war hero, rather than for your personality.  Or even her looks, she would’ve been impressed if someone had asked her out simply based on her face right now.  Anyone but another ‘you’re Harry Potter’s best friend!!!’ flirter.

She and Ron had made a brief go of it, but once the dust settled and the panic wore off, it had become pretty obvious that they were not well suited, and they amicably parted.  Harry and Ginny had come to a similar realisation.  She wondered if Ginny was the only one destined to find someone who appreciated her for who she was, not just her looks, talent on the pitch, and her connections.

‘What about you, Neville?’ she asked, to distract her from such depressing thoughts.  ‘Anyone new in your life?’

Neville reddened a little.  ‘Gran intimidates most girls so much they head for the hills the first time they meet her.  I thought it would improve once I got my own place, but she always wants to meet them after the first few dates, and then it’s over.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said with genuine sympathy.

He shrugged, and darted a look at Mrs Weasley.  ‘I’m thinking perhaps there is no girl for me.’

He put slight emphasis on ‘girl,’ and Hermione nodded her comprehension.  Mrs Weasley’s thoughts on boys with boys and girls with girls were not entirely clear, but Neville was choosing not to take the risk.  He already knew Hermione was all right with it, since she’d once found him in a rather compromising position with Goyle, Jr., in their sixth year.  A fight had turned into something else with equal heat, and she had sworn not to tell anyone while simultaneously trying to scrub the unwanted images of people she’d never wanted to see… _ those _ parts of from her brain.

As far as she knew, Goyle had immediately forgotten about the whole thing, and Neville had told her that he swung both ways and then agreed that they would never discuss it again.  She wondered if Neville would ever be brave enough to bring a man home to meet his grandmother, since he wasn’t even brave enough to broach the subject with Mrs Weasley.

Then she chided herself for not giving him enough credit.  Neville was always brave enough, eventually.  He just took his own time about things.

‘Luna?  How about you, are you seeing anyone?’ Neville asked, just in case Mrs Weasley caught on.

The spacey girl smiled in her foggy way.  ‘He hasn’t got brave enough to ask me, but I think Rolf Scamander likes me.  He keeps dropping things when I’m around.’

Hermione smiled and exchanged a glance with Neville.

‘Either that, or it’s the Nargles,’ Luna added, and they coughed to cover their snorts.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It was getting dark when the boys were finally persuaded to abandon their fun.  They all feasted on leftovers and more cake, and then Harry yelled, ‘Present time!’

Hermione blushed.  ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘I  _ know _ , but I wanted to!’ he yapped happily, bouncing in place while holding out a package.

She thought that perhaps giving and receiving presents were Harry’s most favourite things in the whole world.

Mrs Weasley made them all go in the sitting room and sit in a circle around her, so Hermione felt very uncomfortably ‘on stage’ while opening her presents.  It just wasn’t worth it to fight Mrs Weasley on occasions like this, though, so she resigned herself to it.

Harry had got her a magical logbook that recorded every book she owned, and whether or not she’d read it, and if she lent it to anyone.  Ron and the twins gave her a sampler of their latest products, which she was amused by but didn’t intend to use.  Ginny gave her a book of dating advice, which Hermione considered rather tactless but well-meant.  Mrs Weasley, Arthur and Percy had gone together and bought her a new trunk, since on the rare occasions that she travelled, she still used her old school trunk.  Neville got her a belladonna plant, which was pretty, but she didn’t really see a use for.  She thanked him all the same, and mentally reminded herself to put charms around it so Crookshanks wouldn’t eat it.

Luna forgot to get her anything, but that was both expected and normal.  She apologised, but Hermione assured her that her presence at the party was enough.  It really was, because sometimes Luna forgot to show up to things, wrapped in whatever thoughts of the moment consumed her.

Draco got her the most perfect gift, though.  It was a bookshelf, which she was in desperate need of, and it was self-assembling, charmed against water and fire.

‘Thank you, Draco,’ she said with a broad smile.

He inclined his head, and Hermione reminded herself to send him a proper pure-blood thank-you note, even if she sent everyone else casual ones.  She always sent thank-you notes, of course, because she was Hermione Granger.

The evening finally came to a close shortly after that, and after divvying up what was left of the cake, they parted ways.  Hermione immediately got into her pyjamas and snuggled up with Crookshanks, thinking that turning twenty had not been horrible at all.


	7. Two Hundred and Fifty Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione receives an ominous note while at the Malfoys', resulting in her and Draco having an argument. Lucius is anxious for help, and for them to make up already. Hermione celebrates a milestone with Lucius. At Halloween, Hermione reveals that her plan has finally come to fruition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're moving along now. Hopefully this chapter will read as smooth as it seemed when I wrote it. Let me know what you think! And another big thank-you for all of you lovely, wonderful reviewers, you're perfect and you've helped me loads more than I can explain here!

According to Draco, Lucius was much improved by Monday.  She saw for herself on Tuesday, although she no longer trusted his outward look in class.  Appearances clearly mattered a great deal to Lucius (no surprise there), so she fully expected his elegant, superior dress and manner.  She waited instead for the end of class, when he came to hand over his homework, and looked into his eyes.

He was plainly delighted after sneaking up on her ( _ again _ , and one of these days, she would learn to expect it and not be startled, damn it!), and his eyes were bright and very blue.  On Thursday afternoon, he was even better, wearing a pleased smirk and his eyes dancing with amusement at her expense.

‘I can’t account for it,’ Draco said that evening before dinner.  ‘He was just fine without me on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, too, but I don’t think it was because of Molly’s lunches.  He seemed pleased enough, and he said they were all right, but he didn’t get excited the way he does when you bring something over.  Molly said he was polite but dismissive, and uninterested in leftovers or her continued company.’

Hermione felt her face heating and didn’t comment.  That was undeniable proof, nearly, that the niggling doubt was correct.  She chose not to think about it right now, although she couldn’t help the pride that ignited in her stomach, warming her from the inside out.

‘I know I didn’t really do anything different than normal,’ he went on.  ‘He mentioned writing to an old friend on Sunday, though, so maybe he got a reply and it cheered him up?’

She acknowledged that possibility.

But on Friday, Lucius was down and quiet again.  Hermione brought over some brownies, since it was long after dinner when Draco finally admitted defeat.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said when she emerged from the fireplace.  ‘I’m sorry to have to keep bothering you, but when he gets like this, you’re the only one who can seem to shake him out of it.  He was much better last Saturday after you left.’

Hermione shrugged.  ‘It’s fine, Draco.  I’m happy to help.  Is he in the library again?’

‘Yes.  I didn’t tell him you were coming.  It’s hard to speak to a wall,’ he added with more than a touch of bitterness.

She eyed him curiously as they walked.  ‘Did you two quarrel?’

‘No--at least, not for my part.  He was like this at breakfast, and he wasn’t any better when I got back from work.’

She stopped outside the library and lowered her voice to a murmur.

‘So you haven’t got any idea what triggered it?’

‘None.’

She could see Lucius from her vantage point.  He was on the sofa he favoured, closest to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes closed and his head turned to one side.  The fire cast him in an orange light, dyeing his white-blond hair and pale features.  He looked like a classical painting from this distance--too perfect to be human.

Hermione roused herself with an effort and stepped inside, very aware of Draco’s curious eyes on her.  They settled in the armchairs nearest to Lucius and she got out a quill and parchment.  Draco snagged a brownie and they began talking as softly as possible so as not to wake him.  It wasn’t long before the smell of the warm brownies reached him, though, and he licked his lips, his eyes fluttering open.  He looked at them blearily.

‘Would you like a brownie, Mr Malfoy?’ she offered with as much cheer as she could muster.  ‘We were just discussing why Muggle-borns will never understand the modern, wizard version of Beltane, so there’s no point in teaching it.’

‘Apparently, Muggles--for the most part--no longer engage in wild naked orgies while drunk in the middle of a field with cattle and a bonfire,’ Draco said dryly, brushing brownie crumbs off of his lap.

Lucius blinked slowly, then stretched in place, reminding Hermione very strongly of Crookshanks for a moment.  He sat up and selected a brownie with an expression so utterly serious that it looked as though he was making a major life decision, instead of just picking which brownie he wanted to eat.  She hid a smile.

‘Beltane is outdated anyway,’ he said in a voice rough with sleep.  ‘We never participate.’

She was surprised, but tried her best not to show it.  ‘So you agree with Draco, then, that we should just skip it?’

‘I would,’ Lucius agreed around a mouth full of brownie.

She and Draco exchanged an amused glance and quickly moved on before Lucius could take notice.  He looked like nothing so much as an overgrown child at the moment, lips smeared with chocolate and his eyes soft and bleary from being prematurely woken.  He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, completing the picture, and Hermione was very, very worried about how it sparked a feeling of tenderness deep within her.

She cleared her throat.  ‘What about Samhain?’ she wondered, very deliberately not looking at Lucius.

‘Same story, different month,’ Draco said with a snort.  ‘The old festivals don’t mean what they used to, now that most wizards use them as an excuse to shoot off fireworks and get drunk and naked out of doors.  There’s no point.  The Muggles, much as I hate to say it, have done a better job of keeping them true to the spirit of things.’

Hermione slowly grinned, a brow raised.  ‘Really.’

‘Shut up.  You’re as bad as Harry.’

She was unrepentant, and he rolled his eyes and changed the subject.

Lucius grew more awake and started contributing to the discussion (without having his mouth full this time, although she noted that he’d taken two more brownies and showed little sign of slowing down.  She made a mental note to never,  _ ever _ tell him what exactly he had in common with Ron Weasley, because she liked breathing).  It felt like they were making some very good progress when an owl arrived, one that Hermione thought she recognised.

Draco scowled fiercely at it.  ‘Are my wards failing?’

She reached out and took the note from the impatient bird, which immediately flapped away.  As always, there were no jinxes, hexes or curses.  Just plain paper and ink.

‘No, they haven’t.  You’ve redirected both of  _ your _ letters specifically to the Ministry, not anyone else’s,’ she said offhandedly as she opened the note.

She stared at it for a moment, drawing a slow breath.

_ ‘ Not long now, my sweet. ’ _

She cast it into the fire, and tried to hide how her hands were shaking.

‘So.  Um.’  She blinked, but the words on her parchment remained blurred.  ‘Where were we?’

Draco sat forward.  ‘Hermione?  Are you all right?  What was that?’

She forced a smile.  She noted that Lucius was staring at her with an expression somewhere between confusion and concern, too.

‘It was nothing,’ she said, trying for a breezy tone and failing.  ‘Just a note, that’s all.’

Draco’s brow wrinkled.  ‘Hermione, if someone’s threatening you--’

‘I said it was nothing!’ she snapped.  ‘Geez, Draco.’

He persisted, because he was sometimes a blockhead.  ‘It doesn’t look like nothing--you’re all pale and shaking now, and now you’re getting defensive--’

She shoved the parchment, ink and quill back in her bag, standing decisively.  She left the brownies, because Lucius had wisely stayed out of it.

‘Hermione, wait,’ Draco began, standing to follow.

She whirled.  ‘I have to go.  Don’t follow me.’

‘I’m just worried about you!’

‘And I said it was nothing!’ she yelled back.

She could not,  _ would _ not, discuss this now.  She hadn’t wanted them to find out yet, and she was still determined to wait until a better time.  Maybe when Harry was less busy with Auror training, and when Draco wasn’t so busy trying to keep Lucius stable.  Maybe.

‘If it was nothing, then--’

‘Draco, why can’t you just leave people alone?!’ she snarled, her nerves shot by the note and her patience gone with it.  ‘Sometimes, when we say we’re fine, we really mean we’re fine!  It’s okay to ask, but you just keep  _ on and on and on _ , and it’s ridiculous!’

He looked hurt.  ‘I just want to help.’

‘Then leave me alone when I say I’m fine!’ she said shrilly, and stormed out.

She was halfway down the hall when a voice rang out.

‘Miss Granger!’

It wasn’t Draco, so she forced herself to slow to a halt and turn.  He was standing just outside the door in bare feet, his shirt hanging loose, and he looked uncharacteristically uncertain, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

‘Yes, Mr Malfoy?’ she responded, and it was surprisingly easy to soften her tone.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, ‘You forgot your pan.’

His tone made it very clear that that wasn’t what he’d intended to say, and he felt incredibly stupid for saying it.

She smiled.  ‘I’ll get it next time.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

_ Next time _ , Lucius thought, and this time it didn’t seem like an omen of despair.  Granger left and he returned to the library, where Draco was sitting in his chair sulking over a brownie.

‘It’s your own fault,’ Lucius pointed out, sitting down across from him, and trying to convince himself that he could justify eating a fourth brownie.  She was probably the best baker in the whole world.  ‘We were having a lovely time, but you couldn’t let it go, could you?’

Draco sneered.  ‘What would you know about it?  Like you’ve ever had a  _ real _ friend in your life.   _ Real _ friends care about each other, and they look after one another.  I don’t know if you noticed, but Hermione was seriously rattled by whatever it said in that note, and  _ as her friend _ , it was my job to find out what the problem was.’

Lucius ignored the insults and the hostile tone, nodding slowly.  ‘I did notice.  It would’ve been hard not to.  However,  _ as her friend _ , you should have backed off when she didn’t want to tell you.’

‘But what if it’s something dangerous?!’ he very nearly exploded, reddening.

Lucius tried not to sigh.  ‘Granger is an adult.  More than that, she is an extremely capable witch.  If she didn’t think she could handle it, I’m sure she would tell you.  As it is, she obviously feels that it’s within her abilities to cope with it alone.’  He paused, but finally added, ‘A friend would respect that.’

Draco shot him an extremely ugly look and threw himself out of the chair, storming out without another word.  Lucius rubbed the bridge of his nose and wondered when he’d become a counselor.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Despite the lack of owls, Lucius was making good progress on his atonement, he thought.  So far, he’d got by with Floo calls while Draco was gone.  Granted, he’d only discovered one person in need of his help thus far, but it was monetary, so it was easy for Lucius to arrange to have the proper funds transferred anonymously where they needed to go.  It had taken him two weeks, which wasn’t bad at all, since he was trying to do everything secretly.  He didn’t want anyone getting wind of his involvement in anything.  What if they decided they didn’t want anything from him and rejected his attempt to make amends?  Worse, what if the  _ Prophet _ got wind of it and plastered it all over the place?  No, it was better to do it as some kind of anonymous benefactor.  That way, they would get the help they needed, and he would feel better about having hurt them in the past, having sort of evened the score.

He’d made a list of everyone he could remember.  It was disgustingly short; most of what he’d been involved in had been manipulating people at the Ministry, which had been both easy and not harmful--at least not to those wizards’ bank accounts.  The other major parts he’d been involved in had been Muggle-baiting--he could remember none of the names of the few people they’d left alive, if he’d ever known them in the first place--and missions like retrieving the prophecy.  He’d cast very few spells even during that battle, because he wanted to keep his hands clean.  Not that it had done any good, since he’d been injured, knocked unconscious and captured while obviously with the other Death Eaters.  He hadn’t been able to talk or pay his way out of that one--not that he could do much talking with a cracked jaw.

He shuddered and deliberately pushed away the memories.  He needed to focus.

There were charities for Muggle-borns who’d lost family or property during the war.  If he could find a way to donate a sizable amount without Draco knowing, that would help with his guilt about all the Muggle-baiting he’d done, although he didn’t consider it truly making amends.  He couldn’t undo what he had done, though, and without names, he couldn’t do anything more personal.  It wasn’t very satisfying, but it would have to do.

Lucius crossed the one name off of his list and considered the others.  Some of them, he was too…intimately involved with now to expect an anonymous anything to help.  Like the Weasleys--particularly Ginny.  If his son was set on courting her, as he seemed to be, then at some point, he was going to have to muster the courage to apologise to her--face to face.  Lucius had been directly responsible for her being possessed by the Dark Lord and nearly dying; he didn’t expect her to easily forget that, even if she cared for Draco as much as he seemed to care for her.

He would wait and see, though.  They had only been on three (very successful, but still only three) dates.  If they parted ways, an anonymous gift of some kind might do.  He would rather do that than try to look her in the eye and admit he’d done her a terrible wrong, and that he owed her a debt.

He owed a lot of debts that could not be paid with anything found in his vaults.

Lucius closed the notebook and stashed it away.  Draco would be returning, and then after that they both needed to get cleaned up to entertain again.  It was Thursday, a day he had simultaneously been anticipating and dreading.  Dreading because of the Weasleys, and anticipating because of class.

They had learned about television.  Lucius had already read the chapter, of course, but he’d looked forward to Granger’s lecture anyway.  Her enthusiasm was catching, making him enjoy the lectures much more than he would have guessed.  Television really was fascinating on its own.  She’d only covered the basics (the technical, detailed aspects of electronics, appliances and electricity in general weren’t covered until later years), but the idea that Muggles had come up with a method of transmitting stories in moving pictures, a series of them instead of one static painting that moved but never really changed, was actually quite brilliant.

He stopped himself before he could escalate to Arthur Weasley-levels of admiration and enthusiasm, though.  That was just not to be borne, under any circumstances.

Despite Granger’s words, he hadn’t seen her outside of class since last Friday.  She and Draco were apparently not on speaking terms at the moment, as Draco hadn’t mentioned her once, and grew sour and silent when Lucius brought her up, even obliquely.  He was anxious to speak with her, to find out if she’d come up with any ideas for his final project.  She was always too busy to talk after class now, turning away and dismissing him after she accepted his homework.  He tried not to be hurt, because it was stupid that he should be hurt by that.

And…he missed her cooking.  The brownies hadn’t lasted long, between him and Draco eating them, and the house elves’ food just wasn’t the same.

He waited for her patiently, but this time, Potter arrived alone.  Draco raised a brow at him, but Lucius could barely control the distressed feeling that wanted to take over his features.

‘She said she was busy,’ Potter said flatly, glaring at Draco.  ‘And you and I need to talk.  This has got out of hand, and I’m not putting up with her grouchiness anymore.  You need to fix this.’

Draco just glared back, and they excused themselves to go fight it out.  When they emerged from the study, Lucius was waiting for them.  They both glanced at him with open surprise.

‘Father?  Have you forgotten our other guests?’ Draco demanded pointedly, obviously still very miffed.

Lucius ignored that.  ‘Well?’

Draco blinked.  ‘Well what?’

He huffed.  ‘Are you going to fix it?  I need to talk over my final project with her, and I can’t do that if she won’t come over because you’ve angered her.’

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘I’ll speak with her tomorrow, but no guarantees, all right?’

He shoved past Lucius and headed for the sitting room.  Potter shrugged apologetically and followed him.

Lucius didn’t want to join the dinner now, but he couldn’t come up with a realistic explanation to get out of it, so he reluctantly rejoined the party in the sitting room as well.  No one seemed to have missed him, and he took up a corner where he stood scowling at his water glass.

The food at dinner was tasteless, he had no one to entertain him seated across from him this time, Ginny Weasley did not come with a power switch like television sets did, and all in all, it was a terrible evening.  Lucius excused himself to his room with a headache that didn’t really exist in a physical sense at the earliest possible moment.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius did not bother to get up and join Draco for breakfast.  He was angry with Draco.  He didn’t want to see Draco.  He didn’t want to hear him talk.  Also, he was very tired, and he needed to sleep.  So he made sure his door was locked and he slept in.

Later, when he was sure that Draco was gone, he relocated to the library, where he tried to read for a while, but his eyes were still too tired.  He told himself he was just going to take a short nap, and let his eyes close.

The next thing he knew, there was a delicious smell in the air, and someone with very bushy hair was crouching in front of him.

‘Hermione…?’ he mumbled, without realising what he’d called her, rubbing the sleep from one blurry, crusty eye.

She smiled dazzlingly, and he instantly felt more awake.  He sat up, and she held up some kind of food container.  There was another cloth tote hanging off of her arm, too.

‘Happy 250 Days Left in Your Probation Day,’ she said brightly.  ‘Care to join me in the kitchen?’

He nodded a little more enthusiastically than he probably would have if he hadn’t just woken up, and smiled back.  They retreated to the kitchen, where Granger got out plates and napkins and served up what turned out to be homemade pizza, with sausage and mushrooms on top.  He’d never had pizza, but he greeted the prospect with a great deal of cheer.

‘How did you know?’ he asked, when she slid a slice onto his plate.

‘It’s October 1, right?  250 days until June 6,’ she replied with another bright smile.

‘You’re counting them, too?’

He wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger being so eager to be rid of him.  The answer should obviously have been ‘Good, and good riddance to you, too,’ but it wasn’t.  It was more…muddled now.

‘Well, I wasn’t,’ she admitted, ‘but Draco told me you were, and I decided that getting your wand back was a positive thing to count down to.  Besides, what’s the point of counting down if you’ve got no one to celebrate the landmarks with?’

Lucius smiled; he couldn’t help it.  ‘Like two-hundred and fifty.’

She lifted her tea in a toast.  ‘Like two-hundred and fifty.’

He toasted back and they ate quietly for a moment.  She seemed content with the silence again, lost in her own thoughts and not demanding anything of Lucius.

‘Did Draco send you over?’ he asked finally, nearly bursting with the question for reasons that were beyond him, and which he didn’t really care to examine.

She frowned, puzzled.  ‘Draco?  No.  I haven’t spoken to him since last Friday, actually.’

Something loosened in Lucius’s chest.  She was here for him, then.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either.

Could they realistically be friends?  It seemed possible when Draco was around, or not far from their thoughts, but now, when she was boiling mad at Draco (for something that Lucius himself had taken issue with multiple times, and therefore couldn’t blame her)?  Lucius was trying to change, but being friends with a Muggle-born for her own sake was more than he was prepared to deal with just yet.  It made him feel a bit dizzy.

And yet, here she was, and he was just as content as he always was when they were alone together.  Perhaps, whatever the reason, they were alike enough that it could work?

Lucius was willing to try it--he had no real friends, as Draco had pointed out.  Perhaps Granger could be his first.  She was nice enough, forgiving enough,  _ Gryffindor _ enough, to have absolved him of guilt for something awful, and she was here now for no other reason than to celebrate an occasion that was happy for him.  She was more than meeting him halfway.

They were alike, in some ways.  Granger was very logical, for a Gryffindor.  She was well-read.  She enjoyed books and quiet and simple companionship.  Lucius liked to consider himself logical, and he loved books nearly as much as she did.  He didn’t need or want constant conversation, either.

The main problem was that he didn’t deserve her friendship.  He just wasn’t sure whether his guilt outweighed his loneliness, or if it even mattered.

He was too tired to think about this.

‘You seem a little down again,’ Granger observed with cautious concern.

He smiled reassuringly.  ‘I’m tired.’

‘You’re always tired on Fridays.’

‘Weasleys on Thursdays.’

A light dawned, and she nodded, her eyes bright with new knowledge.

‘Ah…I see.  It really does take a lot out of you, doesn’t it?’ she said sympathetically.

Lucius winced.  ‘They’re a bit…rowdy.  I spent most of last night with Luna Lovegood, trying to avoid them.  She says my aura is full of Nargles, and I haven’t a clue what that means.’

Granger nearly choked on her tea laughing.  ‘No one does.  They’re everywhere, though, according to Luna.’

He sighed.  ‘She’s insane.  I would have spent some time with Longbottom instead, since he’s halfway tolerable, but he was roped in by the twins.’

It was her turn to wince.  ‘Poor Neville!’

Lucius hummed his agreement.  He’d devoured half of the pizza without realising it, he noticed, and his taste buds still wanted more.  He just wasn’t sure his stomach was in agreement with that plan.

‘I brought ice cream for after,’ she said wickedly when she noticed him debating another slice.  ‘It’s not a proper celebration without ice cream.’

He decided against another slice and impatiently waited for her to finish hers.  She dipped up the ice cream with an indulgent smile and they attacked it as though they hadn’t just gorged themselves on pizza.

‘There’s trouble on the Weasley homefront again,’ she warned him between bites, ‘so you might be seeing more of Draco.  Percy finally followed through on his threat and is in the process of moving into his own flat.  The twin menaces are helping, and Harry and I will probably be juggling Ron, Ginny and Arthur as they look for places to lie low.’

Lucius shook his head.  ‘Molly is also insane.’

That surprised a laugh out of Granger.  They talked of this and that for a while; she shooed the house elves out of her way when they would have cleaned up for her, and he leaned against the counter watching her as she filled him in on all the latest news and gossip.  He filtered out things of actual interest to him.  It seemed so natural and…homey, watching her putter around his kitchen.  Narcissa wouldn't have been caught dead in the kitchen.  


Afterward, they relocated to the library with small glasses of brandy.

‘Don’t tell Draco,’ Granger teased in a mock-whisper, and it occurred to Lucius for the first time that Draco was very late.  He hadn’t even noticed the time slipping by.

‘I won’t tell if you won’t,’ he agreed, and knocked back the glass.

It was good brandy, but he didn’t ask for another glass.  There was no need to go down that road again, and oddly, the urge to drink himself into oblivion was quiescent at the moment anyway.

‘Have you thought of any ideas for me?’ he asked after it became apparent that she’d run out of chitchat.

Granger smiled.  ‘Be patient.  I’ll come up with something.’

Lucius scowled.  ‘It’s October now.  I’ve only got three months, now, to come up with something, as you well know, since you’re the one who has to approve it.’

‘Just a little longer,’ she cajoled gently.

He subsided, because it had been a very nice evening, filled with delicious food and relaxing talk, and he didn’t really want to spoil it when he was feeling so good for the first time in so long.  He deliberately smoothed his expression, and his mood fell in line.

‘If you don’t mind,’ he began a little hesitantly, ‘I’d like to borrow that book, the next time you come.  I’ve run out of reading material,’ he added, in case she thought he was actually interested.

Granger’s smile widened.  ‘I’ll bring it, then.  Next time.’

_ Next time _ , he thought, and a little flicker of warmth lit his middle.  Perhaps it was just the brandy.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

They were still talking over extremely cold cups of tea when Draco finally strolled in, whistling.  He paused mid-stride to stare at them, the whistle dying on his lips.  Hermione looked over her shoulder at him and raised a challenging brow, daring him to say anything.  Lucius mimicked her.  Their legs were crossed toward each other, and they were holding their untouched tea the exact same way.  It made her feel extremely, unaccountably smug.

Draco groped for words.

‘Do you two have any idea what time it is?’ he demanded at last.

Hermione tilted her head.  ‘Do  _ you _ ?  Where have you been, anyway?’

He sniffed and lifted his chin.  ‘Ginny stopped by after work and wanted to go out.’

‘A likely story,’ she said, but she smiled.

Lucius snorted.  ‘This is why Muggles have mobile phones.  If I were a Muggle, I would know where you were when you disappeared like that.’

She turned to him so fast she got whiplash.  She heard Draco make a soft, choked noise and knew he was just as shocked.

Lucius looked up, appearing startled by their gaping expressions.  ‘What?’

Slowly, she smiled and sat back.  ‘Nothing.  Nothing at all.’

‘Whatever,’ said Draco, shaking his head.  ‘I’m going to bed.’

She set her cup aside with a sigh.  ‘I suppose I should go, too.  Since it’s technically tomorrow.’

‘Yes.  You should go.  You should not stay up most of the night with my father,  _ alone _ ,’ Draco added with a pout.

Hermione stood and shoved her hands in her pockets, grinning innocently.  ‘Why, what’s the matter, Draco?  Afraid I might steal your father’s virtue?’

She heard Lucius snort and knew at least  _ he _ was amused.  Draco was not.

‘That isn’t funny, Hermione.  If people knew about this--’

‘Well, they won’t, if you don’t tell them.  Why are you still mad, Draco?  I’m sorry I yelled at you, but you did push me when I was already upset.’

Draco pouted at her, then glanced at Lucius, who nodded his agreement with Hermione.  He released a breath, his shoulders slumping.

‘No, I’m not still mad,’ he said, sounding disappointed.  ‘I just…I just wanted to help, you know?’

Hermione chuckled and walked over to pat his cheek.  ‘I know, honey.  And I appreciate it.  I’m sorry I blew up at you.  I do appreciate your concern, and I promise, if it was something you could help with, I would tell you.’

He looked at her mournfully.  ‘So you’re still not going to tell me?’

She pinched his cheek, grandmother style.  ‘No.’

He wrinkled his nose and pulled back, out of her grip, rubbing his cheek.  ‘No fair.’

‘You don’t need to know everything,’ she said patiently.  ‘If I need help with it, I promise, Malfoy Manor and its dashing blond men will be my first stop.’

A brief grin flashed across Draco’s face.  ‘Dashing?  Us?’

‘Oh, yeah.  The most dashing.’  She chuckled and stepped away.  ‘Good night, Draco.  Good night, Mr Malfoy.’

Lucius had risen and watched their exchange with amusement.  He shook his head at her.

‘Good night, Miss Granger,’ he said, very soft and very deep.

She smiled and turned away.

‘It’s actually “good morning,” you know!’ Draco called after her.

She laughed and kept walking.

Who knew the Malfoys were so fun when you got to know them?  Harry would never believe her, but…this evening was probably the most fun she’d had in a long, long time.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was out shopping for a Halloween costume for Harry’s undoubtedly-garish and horrible party.  The twins had been positively delighted when he announced it, claiming that there couldn’t be a more perfect location for a creepy Halloween party than Grimmauld Place.  She had already decided to stay far, far away from them at the party.

She was shopping alone, because when she’d gone shopping with Luna, the younger girl had suggested that she dress as a Crumple-Horned Snorkak, and when she’d went with Ginny, she’d suggested that she dress as a slutty…anything.  It didn’t seem to matter what, slutty mediwitch, slutty Quidditch player, slutty Unspeakable, slutty hippogriff, slutty pumpkin patch….  Ultimately, Hermione decided that she’d have more success if she shopped by herself.  Although she had got a chuckle out of imagining what Lucius would say if he saw her dressed as a Crumple-Horned Snorkak.

‘Wotcher, Hermione.’

She whirled, to find the smiling face of Dean Thomas behind her.  His arms were full of Halloween supplies.

‘Dean!  Long time, no see!  How are you?  Where’s Alicia?’

‘Oh, she’s around here somewhere,’ he said with a shrug.  ‘She’s super excited to have some extra money to spend, finally.’

Her brow furrowed before she could control her expression.  ‘Oh?’

He grinned.  ‘Yeah, we had a spot of luck, for once.  You know we bought that big, expensive house, and we were going to be paying for it for the next twenty years--well, apparently, there was some kind of trust involved, and the rest of the mortgage got paid.  I don’t really understand all those loopholes goblins write into their contracts, but Bill Weasley tells me it’s all pretty straightforward, for goblins anyway, and we don’t need to worry about it anymore.’

‘Oh, my gosh, that’s great!  I’m so happy for you guys!’

She really was, because they wanted kids, and after they’d realised just what they’d got themselves into with the goblins, they’d all but abandoned that dream.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty great,’ he agreed, and he looked his age for the first time in a long time.

‘Dean?  Dean, come here, you’ve got to see this!’

They said a quick goodbye and he excused himself to go see to his wife.  Hermione stood there thinking for a lot longer than she intended to, and quickly sought out a costume.

After she’d gone back home, she thought about it some more.  There were plenty of people who’d want to help Dean and Alicia.  Despite being absolutely horrible at money management, they were good, dependable friends and good people.  The problem was, the two of them would never accept help up front, thinking it made them moochers.  Well, and the fact that that mortgage had been huge, even after a year.  There weren’t many people who would have the willingness, the money,  _ and _ the know-how to pay it off in secret like that.  She utterly rejected the notion that there actually had been a trust.  The goblins were odd to deal with, but they certainly would have mentioned something like that at the time the mortgage was signed, if it had actually existed.

The Weasleys were out, because they were much better off now, but they certainly didn’t have  _ that _ kind of money.  Harry was out because while he definitely had the willingness and the money, she highly doubted that he knew how to hide it like that.  The Malfoys had the money and the know-how, but as far as she knew, neither Draco nor Lucius were on speaking terms with Dean, so that shot the willingness--Malfoys helped themselves, and a select few people whom they considered worthy.  The Longbottoms were a possibility, though….  She debated the merits of trying to weasel out a confession from Neville, but ultimately decided it would only embarrass him, if it had been him.

Besides, she was going to be late for the party if she wasted any more time thinking about this, so she quickly dressed and put on her makeup.  She’d chosen a pixie costume in the end, because it was the only women’s costume left that wasn’t completely ridiculous, but also didn’t show her total lack of cleavage.

The party was in full swing when she arrived.  Harry greeted her with puppy-like enthusiasm, although it took her a moment to realise it was him, since he’d chosen to dress as a bowtruckle, complete with face mask and a charm to alter his voice.  Teddy was toddling after him, dressed as an incredibly adorable twig, apparently making him Harry’s accessory.  Andromeda was trailing after the two of them with an amused look on her face and no costume.

‘I exercise the right to be the responsible adult at this party,’ she explained when Hermione expressed curiosity.  ‘Molly and Arthur came dressed as centaurs, so clearly they weren’t going to take up that duty, and  _ someone _ has to make sure everyone gets home safely.’

Hermione grinned.  ‘Fair enough.’

As she moved through the party, she realised Harry had invited pretty much everyone he knew, which meant that only a few of the creatures and caricatures were familiar to her.  Fred and George had, very tastelessly, chosen to dress up as Voldemort, and everyone was avoiding them assiduously, much to their apparent delight.

Hermione shook her head and moved away, only to pull up short when a vampire stepped in front of her.  No--on closer inspection, it was Draco Malfoy, dressed as a vampire.  The glamour was impressive, and she told him so.

‘Why, thank you,’ he said proudly, and grinned, which was rather a horrible sight at the moment, since he’d gone so far as to spell bloodstains onto his teeth and fake fangs.

‘I’m surprised to find you alone,’ she commented mildly.  ‘I rather thought you and Ginny would be tucked into a corner somewhere.’

He shrugged.  ‘She bought a wig for her costume instead of just using a glamour, and apparently I messed it up.  She’s gone to fix it, and I spotted you, and here we are.  I need to talk to you, actually.’

‘Oh?’

She hoped it wasn’t trouble in paradise.  Getting them together had been as meddlesome as she was willing to be--she had no intention of mediating any of Draco’s other relationships.  It was bad enough that he now seemed to think it was her job to step in every time he and Lucius hit a rocky patch.

‘It’s about Father.’

_ Of course. _

Hermione had spent the past month making them meals and discussing  _ The Lord of the Rings _ with Lucius (which had been fun, like reading it for the first time again), discussing her various projects with him, and putting off his increasingly-desperate demands for help on his final project.  On Thursday evenings, he refrained, but only because he was busy being the gracious, elegant host.  Even when they ended up hiding from the Weasleys in the library together, he remained mute on that subject, talking pleasantly of other things, at least until this most recent Thursday, when she had opted not to go to the dinner, because she felt too guilty.  The last time she’d seen Lucius, after class on Thursday, he had actually given her Draco’s patented puppy dog look.  Usually, that look just made her annoyed, but on Lucius, it went straight through her like a lance.  She’d claimed she was much too busy to talk just now and physically shooed him out of her classroom, and then sent Draco a note begging off from attending the dinner party.

She grimaced.  ‘What is it?’

‘He’s driving me mad,’ Draco said firmly, with a little desperation of his own.  ‘When are you going to give him a list of suggestions?  You said you’d help him and then you just left him hanging.  It isn’t like you, and it’s making him awful.  He’s had more nightmares than ever, so he hardly sleeps, he’s grouchy and keeps snapping at me, and he barely eats except when you bring something over.  He’s started trying to come up with ideas on his own, and they’re horrible.’

She started, surprised.  ‘Really?  Like what?’

‘Like “sixteen different ways to kill a Muggle using only magic.”  I told him it was hardly appropriate for school, let alone a class full of adolescents, and he said it was the only thing he knows about Muggles, which, by the way, I know for a fact is untrue because he keeps telling me things about Muggle history that he finds interesting.’

Hermione winced.

Draco glowered, which was a lot more terrifying in his vampire glamour than it would’ve been on his normal face.

‘So what are you going to do?’

She glanced around, then drew him aside into the hallway, where the only company was Percy, who was arguing the merits of some tax or other with a painting.  She put up a quick privacy charm.

‘Truth?’

Draco was obviously intrigued by her attempt at privacy before explaining.  He nodded, studying her intently.

‘I’ve been trying to find a way to get Lucius out of the house for a day or two,’ she admitted, lowering her voice just in case.  One never knew with Fred and George.  ‘I thought maybe you could take him out into Muggle London and explore a bit.  If he actually saw it when he wasn’t focusing on finding Muggles to torment, maybe he’d come up with a few ideas of his own.  Plus, he’d get to leave the house.’

He slowly smiled.  ‘Typical Granger.’  He paused to allow her snort.  ‘Any success?’

She couldn’t contain her immediate grin, despite her attempts.  Draco’s eyes sharpened and his smile widened into a grin of his own.

‘You  _ have _ had success!  Do tell.’

‘Well, since it’s for class, I managed to convince Kingsley that it was absolutely necessary for Lucius and the Goyles to go out and do some research,’ she said, attempting to sound casual and instead sounding very smug and triumphant.  ‘I wanted to surprise Lucius.  The Goyles got to go last weekend, with me and Harry along to supervise.  Lucius’s day is next Saturday.’

Draco nearly crowed.  ‘Leave it to you, Hermione!  I swear, you can do anything,’ he cried joyously.

‘Not  _ anything _ ,’ she cautioned.  ‘It’s only one day.  And he has to wear a wristband that will keep him within ten meters of me at all times.  You know he won’t like that.’

He shrugged.  ‘He gets to leave the house.  I don’t think he’ll care.  Does Harry have to go along to supervise again?  Can I come?’

‘No, he doesn’t--he only had to go before because there were two Goyles and only one of me.  And you’ll have to ask your father, it’s  _ his _ day out,’ she added cheekily.

He stuck his tongue out at her, but was apparently too pleased to take real offense.

‘I’ll bring over dinner tomorrow and we’ll tell him together.  That way, he can spend the week looking forward to it.’

‘Excellent,’ Draco agreed, with another terrifying grin, and then Ginny reappeared and snagged him.

Hermione shook her head at them and went to find Neville.  She couldn’t help but wonder when this honeymoon phase was going to end.


	8. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione break the news to Lucius. Hermione comes to a realisation and is horrified by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Lucius angst this time, Lucius joy! Giving him a break for a while. ;) Instead, Hermione gets a turn angst-ing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and as always, thank you to everyone who reviewed, you're lovely people. :)

Something was going on with Draco on Monday evening.  He was jumpy and excited and he kept staring into space with a silly grin on his face.  Lucius watched him, trying to decide if he was ill or if he’d simply fallen head over heels for his Weasley and decided to marry her.  Either way, a call to a healer might be in order.

‘Is there a reason you keep jumping up and checking the entrance hall?’ he finally demanded when Draco had been home for an hour and showed no signs of settling down.

Draco only grinned and bounced in his seat a little.  ‘Hermione is bringing dinner.’

Lucius pursed his lips.  That was certainly cause for a little joy (and his rising temper and upset were soothed at the very thought), but not Draco’s levels of hyperactivity.

Before he could question his son about his sudden inability to sit still for five seconds together, Granger herself arrived, bearing a covered platter and a face reddened from cooking.

‘Draco, this is heavy,’ she said breathlessly.  ‘Be useful.’

He whipped out his wand and levitated the platter, raising a brow at her.  ‘And you should remember that you’re a witch,’ he said dryly.

Granger was not embarrassed.  ‘Unlike you, I have no desire to lose all of my muscle tone due to disuse.  Occasionally, doing things manually is both more fun and more effective.  More importantly, if you drop that, I will bash you in the face with the hot roast.’

Lucius got up to follow them, now very interested.  ‘Roast?’ he repeated.

Granger grinned at him briefly.  ‘Yes, a roast, with all the usual fixings.  It’s been cooking all day, so it should be tender.’

It was  _ delightfully _ tender.  It was so good he forgot about Draco being strange, and completely tuned out Draco’s excited babbling.  Granger gave short responses, so he assumed it wasn’t anything important.

After dinner, they settled in the sitting room, where Draco was practically glowing with nervous tension, grinning like a fool.  Granger was more collected, but she turned to Lucius with a secret smile of her own.  He thought he’d learned to read her over the past month, and he knew now she had something to say that she thought he’d be pleased about.

‘I’ve got you a permit,’ she began slowly, obviously making an effort to remain calm and not prattle excitedly.  ‘It’s a one-day pass, to leave the house with supervision, in order to do research for your project.  You’re allowed to go to Muggle London with me for a day.  Twelve hours, actually.  The permit is valid on Saturday.’

Lucius stared at her.  It felt like all of his nerve endings had come alive, the hairs all over his body standing on end as something more animalistic than joy tried to burst through him, out of him.   _ Freedom _ .  For a day.  He would take it.  To breathe the outdoors?  Even in November, he would take it.  He suddenly felt as if he was going to burst out of his skin, trembled with it.  He tried desperately for some measure of control.

‘This is why you haven’t got back with me about the final project?’ he said, and his voice was shaking all over the place despite his efforts.

She studied him with a hint of worry.  ‘Yes.  I thought if you had the opportunity to go out, you’d take it, and the need to research for the project was a valid excuse.’

A breath of…something--relief?  Gratitude?  Excitement?--escaped him.  He didn’t deserve this boon.  He didn’t deserve her--this friend, who he could finally admit had become one, over the last month.  He didn’t deserve her kindness.

But he wanted it, he needed it, like oxygen, and he would take the great gasp of it that he’d been offered.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed, blinking furiously because his eyes were welling and Malfoys do  _ not _ cry in front of anyone, even each other.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, looking away.  ‘It’s only for a day,’ she mumbled.

Lucius opened his mouth to tell her that it was more than he’d hoped for and certainly more than he deserved, but Draco had had enough waiting and exploded.

‘Can I come with you?’ he asked excitedly, like a little child again.

Lucius sighed.  ‘If you’d like.’

He didn’t really want to spend the day entertaining Draco, he wanted to spend it observing the Muggles and enjoying the temporary freedom, but he felt guilty at the thought of excluding Draco given his obvious excitement.  He didn’t need to add any more guilt to the pile.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione had never seen Lucius so emotional before.  He didn’t seem like he might cry anymore, but he spent the remainder of the evening wired.  She hadn’t realised--she’d seen his bouts of depression, but that’s all she’d thought they were, just  _ bouts _ .  She hadn’t ever noticed how his depression seeped into the rest of his life, too, until now, when the clouds lifted.  He looked ten years younger, his face smoothed with joy, his eyes blazing with it.  Before, his movements were graceful but somewhat lethargic, as though it took energy just to turn his head or wave his hand.  Now, he perched on the edge of his seat, gesturing energetically and talking animatedly, laughing easily.  He was still elegance personified, but….

She couldn’t think of a way to describe it.  He was a coil of tension and power, barely contained by the limits of his body.  He was amazingly, beautifully alive, and Hermione’s gut tightened painfully, her breath stolen as she realised just  _ how _ beautiful he was.  She’d never seen Lucius Malfoy genuinely, unashamedly happy before, and when he shot her a sincere, grateful grin, all glowing blond hair and white teeth and impossibly blue eyes, she literally stopped breathing for a moment.

How had she never noticed before?

She needed to get away,  _ now _ .

‘I think…I’m going to call it a night,’ she said unsteadily.

They both looked at her with concern.

‘Are you all right?’ Draco asked.

She managed a wavery smile and gestured with her glass, setting it aside.

‘Too much wine, I think.’

‘I’ll walk you to the entrance hall,’ Lucius said gallantly, standing and offering his arm.

Hermione felt her face heat and couldn’t look him in the face.

‘All right,’ she muttered, and gingerly took his sleeve.

She could feel his body heat through the cloth.

They were silent until they reached the entrance hall.  Hermione reached for the jar of Floo powder with a mumbled thanks.

‘Hermione,’ he said softly.

It was the first time--other than the one sleepy mumble a month ago--that he’d called her by her first name.  It sent a spark through her that  _ definitely _ did not help her current situation.

‘Hmm?’

She turned, and he was standing so, so close again, and this time it wasn’t surprise that made her belly flutter.  She let out a shaky breath and looked up at him with an effort.  He was so pale, like marble.  His eyelids were nearly translucent, she noticed when he blinked.  His eyes seemed to bore into her soul despite his lack of skill in Legilimency, yet at the same time they were soft.  She had noted before that he smelled like vanilla and cinnamon--the vanilla was stronger today.  She felt the urge to look at his lips, and that was quite enough.

She put a hand on his chest and deliberately pushed him a step back, pulling in some much-needed oxygen.

He smirked, apparently thinking she was just startled again.  ‘My apologies,’ he said with his usual amusement.

Hermione clutched her handful of Floo powder.  ‘Did you say my name for a reason?’

The smirk faded, and he looked at her intensely again.  It was just as effective from this distance.

‘I wanted to thank you again,’ he said, his deep, smooth voice making her heart accelerate.

‘Don’t mention it,’ she replied tightly.  ‘I have to go.’

Lucius frowned, half raising his hand toward her.  ‘Have I done something wrong?’

She shook her head stiffly.  ‘No, it’s--it’s me, I….’  She swallowed, and thought up a quick half-truth.  ‘I think I’m going to be sick, and I really don’t want to vomit on your floor.’

His expression cleared and he chuckled, relaxed and easy again.

‘Very well, then.  I hope you feel better.’

She left quickly.

‘What is wrong with me?’ she asked Crookshanks when she arrived in her sitting room.

Crookshanks merely yawned, as though to say, ‘I have spent many years pondering that very question.  Good luck.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione called an emergency conference with Harry at lunch the next day, which was easy since everyone else they knew had plans.  They went to a Muggle sandwich shop, where they were much less likely to encounter anyone they knew.

‘What seems to be the problem?’ Harry said seriously once they had their food.  ‘I haven’t seen you this upset since Ron left us on the Horcrux Hunt.’

She picked at the crust of her bread.  ‘Lucius Malfoy,’ she said miserably.

Harry sat up straight immediately, eyes blazing.  ‘What’s he done?  I’ll have him hauled off--’

‘He hasn’t done anything,’ she cut in quickly.  ‘It’s me.’

He relaxed an inch or so, his confusion evident.  ‘What happened?  I thought you were getting along.  You’re over there all the time, and you talk about him all the time.’

She felt as though all the blood had drained out of her body.  ‘I do?’

‘Well, yeah, it’s always “Lucius said this” or “Lucius said that” or “Lucius thinks” or “you wouldn’t believe what Lucius did today.”  Ron’s started making crude jokes.’

‘Oh, no….’

Harry frowned.  ‘Maybe you’d better tell me what’s going on.’

So she did.  He listened intently, offering no comments or judgments.

‘That all sounds great,’ he said when she paused after telling him about arranging for Lucius’s day pass.  ‘You’ve always been a good friend to everybody.  I’m a little confused by your decision to make Lucius a friend, even if it  _ did _ start out with helping him manage his depression, but if it works for you, then I don’t see a problem.’

Hermione sighed.  ‘The problem is that last night, after I told him, he got really excited and happy, and…I sort of…had a  _ reaction _ to him.’

She bit her lip and looked at Harry, willing him to understand and not have to have it spelled out this time.

‘Oh?’  He took in her expression.  ‘Oh.   _ Oh _ !’

She nodded miserably.

‘You’re  _ attracted _ to Lucius?!’ he said in a raspy, shocked voice.

‘Apparently,’ she said, feeling like the lowest form of pond scum.  ‘I had to get out of there before he noticed anything.’

Harry sat back, scratching the back of his head and considering her.  At last, he seemed to come out of his shock.

‘Again, I personally can’t relate to that particular choice in potential dating partners, but I don’t see why it’s a problem.’

Hermione resisted the urge to throw her uneaten sandwich at him.  ‘He’s not a  _ potential dating partner _ !’ she hissed.  ‘He’s my  _ student _ !  I’m his  _ teacher _ !  More importantly, he’s my friend!  I think.  I hope.  At any rate, he doesn’t seem to hate me so much anymore, and the last thing I need is to screw it up by being physically attracted to him!’

He winced with sympathy.  ‘Yeah, I can see where that might put a spanner in the works.  And I can also see your point about being his teacher.  It’s a position of trust, right?’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘He’s an adult who knows how to say no.  I was thinking more along the lines of, if anyone found out I was attracted to him, they would think that either I passed him so he would sleep with me, or I did his work for him so he would sleep with me.  Either way, it casts suspicion on the legitimacy of Lucius’s work, which could result in them rejecting it and sending him to Azkaban anyway, and it would be all  _ my _ fault.’

Harry paled.  ‘That’s not good.’

‘No, no, it isn’t.  It’s about as opposite from good as you can get.’  She paused, toying with her napkin.  ‘I think Lucius could be a really good friend.  We agree about a lot more things than you’d expect.  And he can be really thoughtful when he wants to be.  I fell asleep while talking to him and waiting for Draco one night, and he put me on his sofa and put a blanket over me.’

Harry’s brows rose.  ‘First, he feels guilt, and now he feels compassion for a fellow human being?  What is the world coming to?’ he asked dryly.

‘Shut up, Harry.’

He grinned unrepentantly.

‘I care about him, you know?’ she said softly, and her heart skipped a beat as she admitted it for the first time, even to herself.  ‘I don’t want to lose his friendship over some silly, stupid hormones.’

Harry looked at her steadily.  ‘Then don’t.  Just…hide how you’re feeling until it goes away.  I’ve seen you do it before.  Granted, it was anger then, but I don’t see how lust would be any different.  A little more difficult, maybe, but it’s the same concept, right?’

She tried to smile.  ‘Right.’

He made it sound so simple.  Hermione had her doubts, given the strength of her reaction last night.  But then, it had taken her off-guard, and now she was--hopefully--prepared.

She had him in class this afternoon, so she guessed she would find out.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione tried to rein in her nervous anticipation as the minutes ticked down.  Lucius always arrived early, like clockwork, at the exact same minute every class.  He didn’t disappoint; he swept in with his usual flair.  He was normal--the same arrogant tilt to the head, the same slight wrinkling of the nose, like he smelled something awful.  He was dressed the same, in his expensive tailored robes, and he was clean-shaven and his hair nearly glowed, as always.  His eyes were cool and pale, unreadable, until he spotted her, whereupon they became deeper and bluer, and the faint sneer turned into a flicker of a smile.  He nodded politely in greeting and slid into his seat.

Everything about him was the same--she was the problem.  Before, she would’ve just smiled and shaken her head at his arrogant Malfoy narcissism and gone on with her life.  Now, he offered her a faint smile and her stomach did a somersault.

Not.  Good.

She quickly busied herself with paperwork.  This was the equivalent of a schoolgirl crush--she felt completely ridiculous.  Fortunately, it wasn’t long before the rest of the students trudged in, and she could distract herself with lecturing.

‘So,’ she began, turning to the class with a smile and avoiding looking at Lucius.  ‘Can anyone tell me about refrigerators?’

The Slytherin girl raised her hand.  ‘Um…they keep things cold.’

Hermione’s smile became a little more natural.  ‘Very good.  One point to Slytherin.  Anyone else?’

‘They’re noisy?’ volunteered a snub-nosed Slytherin boy, with a rather clueless look on his face.

She considered that.  ‘Fair enough.  Most Muggle appliances are, though.  Anyone else?’

Lucius raised his hand.  He somehow made it seem like he was Caesar, raising his thumb, rather than asking for permission to speak.

She suppressed a sigh and called on him.  His answer was long, extremely complex and contained information not found in the textbook.  She almost could have  _ built _ a refrigerator out of his explanation.  The other students were gaping at him in awe and horror.

‘Thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ she managed to choke out after he’d finally finished, seven minutes later.  ‘Much of that is advanced material, so you won’t be required to know it for the exams.’

The younger students and the Goyles let out the breaths they’d been holding with an audible whoosh, surprising a genuine chuckle out of her.

‘Let’s talk about what you  _ will _ be required to know.’

The rest of the class ran fairly smoothly, particularly since she was successful in avoiding Lucius’s eye for the remainder, and he kept quiet.  She didn’t bother to ask him to stay, since she knew he would anyway.

Hermione turned to him with a smile as soon as the room cleared out, determined not to be sneaked up on this time.  He smirked at her and brought his homework up, still amused even though she’d spoiled the game.

‘Where did you learn all of that?’ she asked, allowing him to hear how impressed she was.  ‘Even  _ I _ didn’t know that about disposing of a broken refrigerator.’

His cheeks pinkened, just a little, but it still shocked her.

‘Muggle appliances are interesting,’ he said, a little defensively.  ‘Draco bought me a book about them.’

That, too, was shocking.  Hermione couldn’t help her grin.

‘You’re not turning into Arthur on me, are you?’ she teased.

Lucius snorted, scowling at the very idea.  ‘Hardly.  I’m not about to start a refrigerator collection.  Nor am I likely to dye my hair red and go round like this.’

He made a face, his eyes crossed and his tongue hanging out.  Hermione was so surprised that she startled giggling and couldn’t stop.  She leaned against the desk, fighting to breathe again, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Lucius smiled triumphantly, rocking on his heels.

‘Arthur….’  She stopped to hiccup another giggle and gasp another breath.  ‘Arthur doesn’t look like that.’

‘Says you,’ he shot back lightly.  ‘That was my impression of him on a  _ good _ day.’

Another chorus of hysterical giggles broke out of her and she swatted the air near his arm.

‘You’re mean,’ she managed, wiping the tears from her eyes.  ‘Anyway, moving on.  I think you’ve more than earned your ten points for the day.’

‘Why, thank you, Miss Granger,’ he said with a little mock bow.

She snorted at him and rolled her eyes, but she’d just opened her mouth to speak when the classroom door banged open with enough force to rattle the hinges.  They both jumped and turned to see an irate Ginny Weasley storming up the aisle toward them.  She stopped and fumed for a moment, folding her arms and glaring at the two of them in turns.

‘Ginny?’ Hermione prompted cautiously.  ‘Is everything okay?’

Ginny ground her teeth.  ‘Draco Malfoy is an idiot!’ she shouted suddenly, making them jump again.  She glared at Lucius.  ‘Your son is an  _ idiot _ !’

Lucius blinked at her, leaning away from her slightly, apparently too taken aback to speak.

‘What did he do?’ Hermione asked soothingly.

Ginny turned back to her and stamped her foot.  ‘You want to know what he did?!  I’ll  _ tell _ you what he did!  He offered me to live with him!’

Hermione stared.  She considered several responses, and finally settled on, ‘He invited you to move into Malfoy Manor?’

‘Yes!’ Ginny shrieked, throwing up her hands.

She exchanged a glance with Lucius, but he continued to look shell-shocked.  No help there.

‘Isn’t that generally considered a positive step in a relationship, and not an idiot move?’ she asked, very, very cautiously.

‘It’s not what he asked, it’s the way he asked it,’ Ginny groused, scuffing her shoe on the floor.

‘Um.’  She turned to Lucius.  ‘Maybe we should continue our discussion another time, Mr Malfoy.’

‘I think that would be wise,’ he said quickly.  ‘Good day, ladies.’

Then he was off like a shot.  Apparently, an irate Ginny Weasley was a bit much for him to handle.  Hermione wished she could escape so easily.

‘Ginny, let’s go to my flat and have some tea, and you can start from the beginning.’

They technically needed to go to the Burrow for dinner, but she felt as though Draco’s life would be in danger if she didn’t calm Ginny down first.  If they were late, so be it.

Once they were settled on her sofa with tea in hand, she nodded at Ginny to start.

‘Okay, so, we were having a late lunch together, because Draco had a meeting that ran over,’ she began, still red with fury, but no longer shrieking, thankfully.  ‘I mentioned that I’m hoping to ease Mum into the idea of me moving out before Christmas.  I don’t want to ruin the holidays, but I want to beat Ron to the punch, since we’re the only two left.’

Hermione smirked, and Ginny grinned evilly for a moment.

‘I was talking about what kind of place I wanted to get, and Draco said, “Or you could just move into Malfoy Manor.  It would save on rent, and then you wouldn’t have to wait to find a place to move out.”  Can you believe the  _ nerve _ of him?’

Hermione frowned and idly stroked Crookshanks, who’d jumped up for a snuggle.  ‘I don’t think he meant the jibe about the rent the way it came out,’ she said doubtfully.

‘Maybe not, but it gets worse,’ Ginny said stubbornly.  ‘I told him I wanted to be out on my own for a while, since I’ve never had my own place before, and he said he didn’t see the difference!’

‘Oh, boy,’ Hermione sighed.

‘Exactly.  I’m never speaking to him again.’

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and tried really hard not to imagine throttling Draco.  It was like he’d never met a woman before.

‘So what’s new with you?’ Ginny said, abruptly her normal cheery self.  ‘Has my dating book helped you yet?  You only ever hang out with me, Ron, Neville, Harry, and the  _ Malfoys _ .  How do you expect to meet anyone?’

She hesitated.  ‘I haven’t had time to start reading it yet, but I will,’ she added when Ginny scowled.  ‘And…actually, there’s a….’

‘A what?’ Ginny demanded, a gleam in her eye.

Hermione bit her lip.  ‘You’ve got to swear not to say a word to anyone but Harry.  He’s the only other one who knows.’

Ginny bounced in her seat, grinning; Crookshanks hissed at her and jumped down as he was jostled by the bouncing.

‘I swear, now tell me tell me tell me!’ she cried excitedly.

‘I’m…having a problem,’ Hermione began, wincing.  ‘It’s, well…he’s a  _ friend _ , and I shouldn’t feel this way, and…I just started… _ lusting _ after him, for no reason.  It’s not like I  _ like _ him like  _ that _ , but he’s just…sexy, all of a sudden.  I’m afraid it will ruin everything.’

Ginny nodded sagely.  ‘Yeah, don’t sleep with a friend.  After that you’re ex-friends, and things get ugly fast.  Who is it?’

Hermione shifted.  ‘Well, that’s the other complication.  I’m his teacher, this year.’

The younger girl blinked.  ‘You’re attracted to a student?  Isn’t that illegal?  Or, like, against Hogwarts policy?’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘ _ Lucius _ , Ginny.  It’s Lucius.  He’s not in any way underage, and he’s not technically a Hogwarts student, despite attending a class for the year.’

‘Oooooooooh, yeah, he’s hot, isn’t he?’

Hermione choked on her tea and spent a while coughing.  ‘What?’ she rasped.

‘Don’t act so shocked, you’re the one who just said you were  _ lusting _ after him,’ Ginny said calmly.

‘Yes, but I said it in a  _ bad _ way.’

She shrugged.  ‘You’re hardly the first person to notice that Malfoys are sexy.  Draco’s been on  _ Witch Weekly _ ’s Most Eligible Bachelor list ever since he turned seventeen, and Lucius was on it before he married Narcissa.  He was on their Hottest Newly Divorced Wizards list last year, after Narcissa left with her boy toy, but I personally think the editors hadn’t actually seen him recently, because he was  _ not _ hot when that issue came out.  He looked like an Inferi in a wig, and smelled like a brewery.’

Hermione frowned.  ‘He didn’t look  _ that _ bad….’  She huffed.  ‘Whatever, that’s not the point.  I don’t read  _ Witch Weekly _ , and it’s all right for everyone else to think Lucius is hot if they want to!  It’s not okay if  _ I _ think he’s hot!’

Ginny looked puzzled.  ‘Why not?  You just don’t sleep with him, and then you drool over him when he’s not looking.’

Hermione let out a noise of frustration that made her sound somewhat like the Hogwarts Express.

‘Ginny.  Seriously.  Isn’t there any way to…make it go away?  He’ll go back to Azkaban if anyone finds out that I’m having…those kinds of thoughts about him.  They’ll accuse us of impropriety and ship him off before you can say “Snitch.”  Who knows?  I might even lose my job.  And all of that is the worst case scenario, never mind what will happen to our newfound friendship if he finds out.’

She snorted.  ‘Knowing men, he would just have sex with you and then forget all about it.’

Hermione held her eye.  ‘I don’t want that.’

Ginny studied her for a moment, the glee and amusement fading as she took in her friend’s seriousness.

‘Geez, you really like him, don’t you?’ she said in an awed voice.

Hermione fiddled with her teacup.  ‘He’s not a bad person, once you get to know him.  We have a lot of fun.  And he’s very intelligent.  I can talk about things with him that I can’t talk about with Harry or Ron or you, or even Neville.  He could be one of the best friends I’ve ever had, eventually.  I don’t want to lose that.’

Crookshanks returned for more snuggles, but avoided Ginny.  Hermione scratched under his chin.  At last, Ginny answered.

‘There’s no way to make them go away, Hermione,’ she admitted.  ‘You either scratch the itch or you ignore it.  If you want Lucius to be your friend, you’ll have to ignore it.’  She paused.  ‘I didn’t realise you were spending all that time over there because of him, although I guess I should’ve.  You talk about him all the time.’

Hermione’s face heated.  ‘I just wanted to help him and Draco out, at first.  He’s depressed, and he was going through a really rough time at first, adjusting to having to go to school again and dealing with everything he has to deal with.  I guess he just grew on me.’  She smiled wryly.  ‘It helps that he doesn’t threaten me or sneer at me.  He seems like he really enjoys my company, sometimes.  Or at least my cooking,’ she corrected with a chuckle.  ‘I just keep hoping that it’s not all just for show, that he really enjoys our talks as much as I do.  We could get to June and as soon as I give him a passing mark, he goes back to sneering down his nose at me.  You never know with Slytherins.’

Ginny hummed an agreement.  ‘They’re pains in the arse.  I don’t think he’s putting on a show, though.  I think you’d have noticed, by now.  Nobody’s  _ that _ good.’

She raised a brow.  ‘Believe me, I’ve seen Lucius Malfoy in action.  He  _ is _ that good.’

‘Then I guess you’ll find out in June,’ she said grimly.

Hermione sighed and tried not to feel a little depressed herself.


	9. Almost There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets stuck in a meeting and discovers a little about what Lucius has been up to. Draco seeks Hermione's advice again. Lucius worships the ground Hermione walks on, and Harry can't--or won't--shut up about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one before the day out, and I'm posting that one directly after this one is up. Originally, they were going to be part of the same chapter, but the Muggle excursion ended up being waaaaaay longer than I thought it would be, so I made this bit its own little chunk. Hopefully you'll enjoy it anyway. :)

Hermione was going to be late to her own afternoon class, she realised in a panic.  The other teachers were fidgeting, too, looking at their watches or quietly casting  _ Tempus _ .  Minerva was tapping her fingers and glaring pointedly, but Mr Proudie, the current head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, continued to obliviously drone on.  Why he had insisted on having a budget meeting in the middle of the school day was beyond anyone’s comprehension.  She saw Filius scribbling a quick note and sending it off like one of the Ministry’s memos; he was undoubtedly asking a prefect or other responsible student to watch the class for him.

A light bulb went on in her head.  She had an adult at her disposal--moreover, he was an adult who was so well-prepared for class that he could probably teach the lesson himself.  Surreptitiously, she pulled out a quill and parchment and jotted a quick note of her own.

‘ _ Mr Malfoy-- _

_ Am being detained by blathering idiot.  Please supervise class--lecture on microwaves.  If they give you trouble, give them detention--I will enforce.  Classroom password is Firebird. _

_ I will come ASAP.  Owe you big time.  Will pay in food of your choice. _

_ \--Hermione _ ’

She folded it and sent it away with a flick of her wand.  A weight seemed to lift from her chest, but she was still extremely annoyed about having to sit and listen to Proudie’s droning.  At least now she knew her students wouldn’t be sitting in the hallway, getting up to who knew what.

At long last, Minerva glared Proudie into submission.  Only a half hour late.

Fuming, Hermione stormed up the stairs as fast as she could.  She was one corridor away from her classroom when a small sound brought her up short.

‘Ooooooh, look at you, you’re so sweet!’ she cooed at the kitten that stepped toward her, lifting a tiny paw.

She picked it up and scratched behind its ears.  It immediately began purring.

‘Mr Tibbs, where are you?’ a familiar voice called.

Hermione smiled.  ‘I think your daddy is looking for you, sweetheart.’

The kitten blinked its big green eyes and chirped.

Filch came around the corner and instantly looked relieved.  ‘Oh, you found him, Professor.  Thank you.  He’s much too small to be out alone yet.’

She handed the little brown fluffball over with some reluctance.  Filch’s face scrunched up in a rather ugly expression of love for the little critter, which licked his nose with equal affection.  She was moved in spite of herself; Mrs Norris had passed away over the summer, and Filch had been devastated.  She knew she would be completely crushed when Crookshanks eventually passed on.  She didn’t even want to think about it.

‘He’s adorable.  Did you just get him?’

‘On Tuesday,’ Filch confirmed.  ‘Mr Malfoy dropped him off.’

‘Mr Mal….’  Hermione swallowed.  ‘Did he owe you a cat?’

‘Hmm?  No, we just met in the hall and I told him about Mrs Norris a few weeks ago, and I guess he felt badly for me.’

‘Oh,’ she said faintly.

Filch excused himself, and she dazedly continued on to the classroom.  Lucius Malfoy, feel bad for a Squib?  He’d previously liked to pretend that they simply didn’t exist.  She wasn’t sure what to think of his sudden show of compassion.

She could hear his voice out in the corridor when she arrived at her classroom, slightly muffled by the closed door.  It rang with authority and confidence.  He sounded like his usual arrogant self.  She touched the wood, frowning.

Lucius had suddenly presented her with a mental challenge that she wasn’t prepared for.  He’d shown that he felt guilty about a few things, openly, and she’d gleaned more from his behaviour and a few of his expressions when he thought no one was looking.  Still, she hadn’t known he felt guilty enough to actually do anything about it.  She had actually assumed (rather unfairly, she realised uncomfortably) that his arrogance and feelings of superiority would convince him that just being sorry about it was penance enough.  A little guilt of her own stung her as she realised how low her expectations of him had been.

And what did he have to feel guilty about toward Filch, a Squib, someone he considered the lowest of the low?

She could think of only one thing--Mrs Norris had been petrified as a direct result of Lucius passing Tom Riddle’s diary on to Ginny.

Hermione bit her lip.  He felt guilty about that, it was the only explanation.  Filch was only the first person hurt by it.  Then there was Colin Creevey, who was dead.  She made a mental note to watch Dennis, waiting to see if he received any gifts or money.  After that was Justin Finch-Fletchley, then…herself, and Penelope Clearwater, and then Harry.  Most of all, though, was Ginny.  She tucked the mental list away with a reminder to be vigilant.

Finally, Hermione drew a deep breath and opened the door, quietly slipping inside.  A few of the students glanced up briefly, but most of them kept their eyes on the front of the room.  She smiled at the very sight.  Lucius was standing at the front of the room with one hand on the lectern and one hand on his hip, his head held high and looking very much in his element.  Her stomach tightened and her breathing picked up, and she mentally cursed herself.

‘It is not recommended that you put anything metallic inside your microwave unless you want to ruin it,’ Lucius was saying calmly, evidently unbothered by suddenly being an authority on Muggle appliances.  ‘Although it does have the upside of providing you with an impressive light show before it dies forever.’  He noticed her and gave a very small nod.  ‘Professor Granger, would you like to take over now?’

He made to move, but she waved a hand and slid into his usual seat.

‘Carry on, Mr Malfoy,’ she said evenly.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded once and continued lecturing, holding the students completely spellbound.  She observed with mingled amusement and growing respect.  He’d really done his research, as his lecture was detailed yet understandable, and he was able to field all of the questions that a few brave souls dared to ask.  He could have been a teacher, if he’d wanted to.

At the bell, he even announced the homework and dismissed them.  Hermione leaned back and folded her arms, waiting while the students filed out.  When the last of them had gone, Lucius walked back toward her with an expression of uncertainty, stopping with one row of desks between them.

‘It was very well done,’ she said when he continued to remain silent, watching her.

He let out an audible breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.  The uncertainty melted and he looked at her with dancing eyes.

‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely.

Hermione smiled.  ‘Are you still looking forward to Saturday?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Lucius said enthusiastically, ‘I’ve even had Draco pick up a Muggle suit.  We’re trying out different glamours on my hair, because the textbook has a few pictures of Muggle cuts.  I want to blend in.’

Her smile widened at his eagerness.  ‘That’s fantastic.’

He hesitated.  ‘Are  _ you _ looking forward to it?’

‘Of course,’ she said easily, mentally adding that given her difficulty controlling herself, it was a good thing that Draco was coming along.

Lucius’s eyes brightened a little and he smiled, and for a moment she couldn’t think about her inappropriate lust or her confused thoughts about him--the only thought she had was that the Lucius in front of her right now was very much capable of somehow buying a kitten and hand-delivering it to a Squib.

She blinked the thought away.

‘You  _ are _ coming tonight, aren’t you?’ he said smoothly and casually, but she’d been around him enough now to hear the anxious note he was trying to cover.  ‘You didn’t last week.’

Hermione grinned.  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave you to face the Weasleys and Luna alone this time.’

‘Thank goodness,’ he said dryly, but she saw his relief.

She stood.  ‘I’ll walk you to the Floo.’

Lucius offered her his arm again.  She reluctantly took it, and hoped desperately that her face wasn’t completely red, given that it felt like it was on fire.  If it was, then she could only hope that he would take it as embarrassment over his courtly gesture.

‘What dessert are you bringing tonight?’ he teased after they had walked about halfway in silence.

‘I’m not,’ she said lightly, looking at him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction.

He whipped his head around to stare at her with an expression of utter betrayal and actually faltered a step.  Hermione laughed, righting herself when his stumble tugged her off balance.

‘I’m coming over early,’ she explained, grinning.  ‘I’m making a chocolate soufflé, and they don’t travel well, particularly not through the Floo.  I asked Draco last night if I could horn in on your kitchen again, and he said it was all right.’

Lucius resumed walking without bothering to hide his relief.  ‘That was mean,’ he chided.  ‘I thought I was going to be stuck trying to choke down whatever mess Tibby’s prepared.’

Hermione chuckled.  ‘She’s really a good cook, you know.’

‘Her food tastes like hatred and bitterness,’ he said stubbornly.  ‘Since that’s how she feels about me, she probably magically imbues the food with it.’

Another laugh tore out of her and she leaned on Lucius’s arm to recover.  He smiled at her a little proudly, and she realised with relief that for this moment, anyway, she wasn’t feeling anything inappropriate, just the warmth of the friendship they were cultivating.

‘I somehow doubt that,’ she managed, recovering.  ‘If she did that, we would all taste it at the dinner parties.’

‘Ah--except that it’s not a buffet,’ he pointed out.  ‘Each person’s plate comes individually.  She and the other house elves could make all of the food, and then when they dish out my plate, curse it to taste terrible.’

She shook her head, grinning.  ‘I still doubt it, but I have no argument for that one, other than to say that it’s highly unlikely.’

‘But not impossible.’

‘No,’ she conceded.  ‘Not impossible.’

They arrived at the fireplace where he and the Goyles were permitted to Floo in and out.  He bowed to her with a teasing smile.

‘I shall see you shortly, then.’

She smiled back and he left in a flash of green fire.  Hermione groaned and covered her face with both hands.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius followed Hermione to the kitchen as soon as she arrived, taking her bag from her and padding after her like a lost puppy.  His excitement and desperation for her company would very definitely have bothered him a month ago, but now he was so lonely and bored without her that he didn’t even try to lie to himself.

Draco had tried bringing a few other people around over the last month, to break up the monotony, he supposed.  His son had sent Molly Weasley around three times a week with her bland cooking (it wasn’t as awful as Tibby’s, though, so that was something), then brought over a few Ministry lackeys Lucius had once been acquainted with.

Draco even tried pushing some young blonde researcher from the bowels of the Ministry, evidently believing that it was just female company in general that his father wanted.  Lucius had soothed the terrified girl with a cup of tea and a conversation about the ethics of various werewolf laws, before sending her on her way.  He had then had a very stern talk with Draco about the appropriateness of sending women to him for certain…purposes (i.e., that it wasn’t at all appropriate and he did not appreciate it one iota).  Draco had turned a very unbecoming shade of red and promised not to do anything like that again.

Still, even the ‘normal’ company that Draco had shoved on him had been completely boring to him.  Only Hermione could spark his interest.  She was intelligent and humorous, and she talked to him like an equal, without judgment or condescension, like Molly, or fear, like those Ministry idiots.  Out of all of the people he had to put up with, Hermione had become the only one he  _ enjoyed _ spending time with, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it to himself anymore.

And when he was alone…he didn’t like to think about it, but his time alone had become increasingly horrible, when he wasn’t working toward his atonement.

‘So how do you make soufflé?’ he asked as she unloaded her bag onto the free space the house elves had left for her.

She flashed him a smile and began to speak.  He watched her throughout the process, listening intently to her explanation even though he never intended on trying to cook anything himself.  She seemed more relaxed in teacher mode, Lucius noted.  For the last few days, she’d seemed jumpy and guilty around him, not wanting to meet his eyes and backing away when he moved toward her.

Part of Lucius feared it meant that she was failing him and didn’t want to tell him.  Another, darker part whispered that she was afraid of him, and he rather wildly grasped at ways to distract her, to make her relax around him again as she had before, to prove that part of him wrong.

‘…And then it has to bake,’ she concluded, sliding it into the oven.  ‘Tibby can take it from there.’

Hermione began cleaning up her supplies.  On an impulse, Lucius picked up a towel and started helping, earning a warm smile that went straight to his middle.  He basked in the glow, not focusing at all on the fact that he was currently engaged in menial labour, for which he had house elves.  Since she’d revealed what she’d done for him, it had become more important than anything that she think well of him.  He wanted  _ her _ to believe that he was worthy of the effort she’d gone through to get him the day pass, even if he felt unworthy.

‘Father?  Hermione?  People are arriving, I could use a little help,’ Draco called down the stairs.

‘We’ll be right there!’ Hermione called back cheerfully.

They packed away her supplies and Lucius happily followed her back up the stairs.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco cornered Hermione as soon as everyone had arrived.  He looked very glum.

‘Ginny won’t talk to me,’ he mumbled unhappily.

‘Nope, she says she’s never speaking to you again,’ Hermione replied cheerfully.  ‘It’s your own fault.’

He huffed.  ‘I don’t even know what I did wrong!  How was inviting her to live with me a bad thing?  We’ve been together for a month, so it’s not like it’s  _ too _ soon, just a  _ little _ soon.  Why is she so angry?’

She took pity on him, but her eyes were tracking Lucius.  He’d been lassoed by Molly, who was standing there scolding him about how thin he was, totally oblivious to the fact that both Lucius and Arthur were standing with the same tightly-clenched jaws and white knuckles, trying very hard not to look at each other even accidentally as she prattled on.  Hermione kept an eye on the situation, watching Lucius for signs of an imminent explosion.  She had faith in him, but Molly could try the patience of a saint.

‘She’s angry because of the way you asked,’ she explained with a sigh.  ‘It didn’t sound to her like an invitation, it sounded like a way to make a comment on her family’s lack of wealth again.  Which, of course, means that you two still have some issues you haven’t quite worked through yet.’

Draco harrumphed.

Hermione studied Lucius’s waist, trying to see through the robe.   _ Was _ he too thin?  She couldn’t quite remember how he’d looked before, in his glory days….

‘She’s even  _ angrier _ at your lack of respect for her desire to have her own place,’ she added.

He huffed again, fidgeting.  ‘I just don’t understand what the big deal is!  Moving out is moving out, right?  Why does it matter where?’

She snorted.  ‘Therein lies your problem.  It may not be a big deal to you, but it’s a big deal to Ginny.  Yes, she’s very eager to move out, but unlike her brothers, she’s never had her own place before.  She only graduated last spring, remember?  Even Ron went on the road with us, so he wasn’t living at home all that time.  It’s more than about moving out of her parents’ home to Ginny.  It’s also about proving her independence.  Your offer, while well-intended, would have meant living under someone else’s roof again.  Then you just had to blow her off when she tried to explain that to you, and now she’s said she’ll never speak to you again.  You are on your own.  I can sort Lucius for you, or I can sort Ginny for you, I cannot do both.  I’m only one woman.’

No, Molly was right, he was definitely still too thin, she decided.  She needed to ramp up how many meals she was bringing over, since he apparently couldn’t control himself around her food.

Draco sighed, slumping with defeat.  ‘Fine.  I’ll find a way  _ without _ you, then,’ he said, pouting.

‘That’s the spirit.  Does Lucius look thin to you?’

He did a double-take at the apparent non-sequitur.  ‘Uh…I guess?  I see him every day, he looks the same to me.  He’s looked the same for over a year now.’

Hermione finally looked at him, but only to glare at him.  ‘That’s not good, Draco.  He needs to put on some weight, he looks like doesn’t eat, ever.’

He shrugged.  ‘He doesn’t really.  I told you, he barely eats unless it’s something you brought.  He eats enough to get by.’

‘Well, why don’t you make him eat more?’ she demanded, scowling fiercely.

‘What, demand that he clean his plate, like he’s a child?  I’m sure that would go over really well,’ Draco said, rolling his eyes.  ‘You’re the one who told me to stop lording over him, remember?  He’s an adult, as you keep reminding me.  Hopefully, he knows how much he needs or wants to eat.’

Hermione glowered at him once more, but reluctantly let the subject go.  ‘I hear your preparations for Saturday are coming along.’

‘Sort of,’ he muttered.  Then, when she shot him a puzzled look, he added, ‘He flinches every time I point my wand in his general direction.  It messes up the glamours.’

She felt a spike of sympathy in her chest.  ‘Can you blame him?  You have a wand and he doesn’t.  I’d flinch, too, if you pointed a wand at me when I was unarmed.’

Draco shook his head.  ‘No, I mean he  _ bodily _ flinches.  He puts his arms up and everything.  It’s more of a cringe, really.  Then I have to get him calmed back down and we try again.  We tried it with him sitting, and he just knocked the chair over backward.’

She drew in a small breath, wincing.  ‘That bad?’

‘Yes.  He insists we keep trying, though.  He really wants this to work.’

‘He could just go without a glamour,’ she pointed out.

He smiled faintly.  ‘I said the same thing.  Father said it wouldn’t be the same, and he wants to blend in with the Muggles.’

She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself.

The chime for dinner sounded and they parted ways, each consumed in their own thoughts.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had been gearing himself up for the horror that was dinner, only to find that Draco had moved them around.  Instead of Ginny on one side and Arthur on the other, he was now between Luna and Hermione.  This was a vast improvement.  Neville was directly across from him, so that wasn’t horrendous, either.

‘Hello again,’ he greeted Hermione cheerfully when she found her new seat assignment.

She smiled at him brightly.  ‘Hello again.’

‘I wonder why Draco’s moved things,’ Lovegood piped up dreamily.  ‘Probably the Nargles told him to.’

Lucius wondered, too, although her theory was probably incorrect.

Hermione smiled at them conspiratorially.  ‘He wants Ginny beside him so he can try to get her talking to him again, but he wanted to make it look like she wasn’t the reason.’

‘Ah.’

That made sense.  Draco had been mopey and horrible ever since Tuesday afternoon.  Lucius had been relieved to see him go when he went to the Burrow and to Grimmauld Place the last two evenings.

Lovegood opened her mouth, but fortunately, Ginny was seated on her other side and engaged her in conversation to avoid talking to Draco.  Draco continued to look mopey.

‘So what can I make you?’ Hermione asked with a teasing edge.

Lucius frowned.  ‘Pardon?’

She smiled.  ‘I told you in the note, I owe you for taking on my class.  What meal would you like?’

‘Oh, that’s right.’  He thought for a moment.  ‘Anything I want?’

‘Anything you want that I know how to make,’ she clarified.  ‘Which is most things, so unless you venture into Filipino cuisine or sushi, you should be safe.’

‘Hmm.’  That left a  _ lot _ of possibilities.  ‘May I think about it for a while?’

She shrugged.  ‘As long as you want.  It’s a standing debt with no expiration date.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Would you like to talk about Saturday instead?’

Lucius looked at her worshipfully.  ‘ _ Yes _ ,’ he replied intensely, his voice rumbling in his chest.

Hermione’s cheeks reddened and her eyes went very dark.  She turned to her plate, and he noted with concern the slight tremor in her voice when she spoke.

‘I was thinking we could leave here at eight in the morning and go have breakfast at a Muggle establishment,’ she began.  ‘After that, we can do a little sightseeing until lunch.  Is there anywhere specific you’d like to go?’

‘Parliament,’ he said automatically.

Hermione grinned at him.  ‘Gee, a Slytherin who wants to go straight to the seat of power.  I never would’ve guessed.’

Lucius only smiled.

‘All right, we can hit the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, all the usual tourist hotspots.  Then lunch, and after that, I think we should go window shopping.  I’d like you to see Muggles shopping for Muggle things.’

He nodded.  ‘That could be interesting.’

‘Then the museum, I think.  Afterward, I need to stop in somewhere really quickly, and we’ll have dinner with my parents’ old friends, the Garrisons, so you can have a more intimate look at Muggles.  If there’s enough time afterward, we’ll check out a Muggle pub or two for you to observe, and we’ve got to have you back here by eight.  Does all that sound all right?’

‘It sounds perfect,’ he said, a slight shift all he allowed himself of the excited wriggle that wanted to come out.

Most of what she’d mentioned for the morning was  _ outside _ .  He couldn’t wait.

The subject changed to other, less exciting topics, and he happened to overhear Lovegood mention something that gave him an idea for his next target.  All in all, it was an excellent night--particularly the soufflé part.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione joined Harry for another cup of tea after the party broke up.  He kept studying her, but this time she didn’t want to know what he was going to say.  She’d ended up alone with Lucius again (where he returned  _ Lord of the Rings _ with marked reluctance, and lent her the book he’d offered before,  _ Antoine and the Firebird _ ), but she’d quickly found an excuse to leave and tailed Harry for the rest of the evening.

‘So, Hermione,’ he said at last, and she tried not to wince.  ‘How are things going with Lucius?’

‘Fine,’ she squeaked.

Harry raised a brow and pushed up his glasses.  ‘Which is why you avoided him most of the evening, and he ended up following us around the sitting room like a duckling after its mother.’

‘He didn’t,’ she protested, nearly dropping her cup.

‘After Neville left and he had no one else to talk to, he did,’ Harry insisted, smiling.

Hermione sighed unhappily.  ‘He’s just really, really excited and grateful about Saturday.’

‘And has therefore become your devoted duckling,’ he added with false innocence.  ‘Even when he was talking to Neville, he kept looking at you.  I’ve seen that look before--on you.’

She scowled, feeling defensive.  ‘What look?’

Harry grinned roguishly, and for a moment she was reminded of Sirius.  She shook it off.

‘The look of an overachieving pupil, desperate to impress that one favourite teacher.  I think he’s your new biggest fan.  All you did was pull a few strings and get him a day pass, and Lucius bloody Malfoy went from tolerating your Muggle-born existence to worshipping the ground you walk on.’

She shifted uncomfortably, swirling her tea.  ‘It will wear off.  He’s been under house arrest since August of ’98, he was bound to get excited about it.’

He raised his brows.  ‘ _ That _ excited?  The Goyles didn’t suddenly turn into Hermione groupies.’

Hermione rolled her eyes, exasperated.  ‘Lucius is  _ not _ my groupie, Harry.  And it’s different.  For one thing, the Goyles are more emotionally stunted than even  _ Ron _ , and for another, they’re at least allowed to go out in their own gardens.  Lucius is not.’

His face went slack with shock.  ‘ _ What _ ?  How is that even allowed?  That’s…that’s just inhumane!’

‘That’s what Draco said when they passed down the conditions, but they claim it’s for Lucius’s safety,’ she said with more than a touch of bitterness.

Harry remained serious.  ‘Even Sirius could go out in his garden, as unpleasant as it was back then.’  He bit his lip.  ‘He hasn’t been outside in over a year?  No wonder he looks at you like you hung the moon.  I’m sorry, Hermione, I didn’t realise.’

She shrugged, set her tea aside.  ‘He’ll go back to normal after it’s over, probably.  Or at least after he realises he’s got another seven months of being trapped inside after a one day reprieve.’

‘Or he’ll be your devoted fan forever,’ he said, grinning.  ‘He’ll bring you an apple to class every day from now on.’

Hermione rolled her eyes.  ‘Shut up, Harry.’

His grin widened.  ‘He’ll start a fan club and sell memberships.’

She tried not to laugh and ended up making a very unladylike noise.  ‘Shut  _ up _ , Harry!’

His bright eyes gleamed with mischief.  She shook her head in defeat, throwing her hands up.

‘I give up.  You’re hopeless.  I’m going home to get some sleep.’

‘Sweet dreams!’ he chirped, then laughed when she responded with a rude gesture.


	10. Muggle London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco begs off, so Hermione and Lucius go to Muggle London without him. Lucius has many adventures and interesting experiences, while Hermione tries to hide her feelings. Hermione meets an old friend, and Lucius is jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. This is looooooooong. Or at least it felt that way. But at long last, here it is--Lucius's classist attitudes, revelations, encounters with tourists, a homey dinner with Hermione's family friends, oblivious!Lucius and lots of Lucius/Hermione moments. Particularly since they end up holding hands pretty much all day. :D Lucius is more than a bit OOC at the beginning, but he's super, super excited, so hopefully it works anyway.  
> I hope it's as fun as you hoped it would be! I was pretty happy with how it came out, for the most part. Enjoy!

Lucius was so excited on Saturday that he woke naturally at five in the morning, and spent an hour and a half pacing around the house, waiting for Draco to wake up.  Finally, he pounded on the door until a very cranky Draco emerged, squinting and scratching his mussed head.

‘Father?  It’s _six-thirty_ ,’ he moaned.  ‘Hermione won’t even be here for another hour.  And that’s assuming she arrives early.’

‘She’s Hermione, of course she’ll arrive early,’ Lucius said flippantly.  ‘Hurry up and get dressed, I’m hungry!  It’s breakfast time!’

Draco stared at him for a moment.  ‘Yeah, all right.’

Lucius paced the hallway with restless energy while he waited, and practically ran circles around his bewildered son when he emerged again and headed for the dining room.

‘We’re going to go shopping,’ he chattered uncharacteristically.  ‘And we’re going to a museum, although I don’t want to go inside some stuffy old museum.  I want to go to a park and be outside.  I think I can convince her.  Parks can be educational, can’t they?’

He paused to take a breath, and Draco seized the opportunity.

‘Father, will you please sit down?’ he asked, and Lucius decided he was _definitely_ still cranky.  ‘I thought you were hungry.  Besides, you’re making me dizzy.  I can’t decide whether you remind me more of a house elf, or a five-year-old on Christmas morning.  Either way, it’s a bit much at this time of morning, and hardly dignified.’

Lucius sat, pouting.  ‘You’re cranky,’ he pronounced, ‘and no fun.  If you’re going to be like this all day, then maybe you shouldn’t come.’

He dug into his breakfast with a gusto that was usually absent when it wasn’t Hermione’s cooking.  Draco looked faintly disgusted.

‘I probably won’t,’ he said testily.  ‘Ginny still isn’t talking to me, so I need to track her down and make things right.  I thought Hermione was taking you out for a Muggle breakfast?’

Lucius swallowed hastily.  ‘She is, but what if I hate it?’

Draco rolled his eyes and gloomily sipped his coffee.  He rolled his eyes back and kept eating.  Draco’s mood couldn’t possibly dampen his enthusiasm--he felt as though currents of fire were flowing through his veins, and he might literally explode from the excess energy if he sat still for too long.

He finished eating in short order and left Draco to his brooding, retreating to the library.  He paced for a while before stationing himself at one of the windows, fidgeting and drumming his fingers on the glass.  He usually avoided looking out the windows when he could--it seemed equivalent to being allergic to peanuts and then putting bags of them in every room, knowing you couldn’t have it--but now he gazed out at their brown, dormant gardens hungrily, anticipating the sharp, bitter November breeze biting his skin, the weak winter sun peeking through the clouds to shine on him.  He could almost feel it already.

‘Nice suit.’

He whipped around to find Hermione smiling at him from the doorway, Draco sulking at her shoulder with his arms folded.  Lucius ignored Draco, offering Hermione a wide, genuine grin.  She reddened, but he thought nothing of it.

‘Thank you,’ he said brightly.  ‘Is it time to go yet?’

She giggled.  ‘Almost.  You still need your glamour, and then we can go in a few minutes.’

‘I warned you,’ Draco said darkly.

‘I thought you were going weasel hunting,’ Lucius sniped cheerfully.  ‘I already checked this room, there are no weasels or Weasleys here.’

Hermione giggled again, putting a hand over her mouth in a futile effort to squelch it.  Draco was not amused.

‘You’re not coming with us, then?’ she asked, trying to suppress her smile with limited success.

‘No, I need to find Ginny and grovel,’ he sighed.

Hermione shook her head.  ‘Good luck.’

Lucius snapped his fingers impatiently.  ‘Glamour time!  Let’s get going!’

Draco sighed again and reached for his wand sluggishly.  She was much faster; in a blink, she had her wand out and pointed at him, and Lucius felt a warm tingle pass over him as the spell hit.  She lowered her wand and put it away with a satisfied nod.

Draco gaped, his hand still frozen in the act of reaching for his wand.  ‘You didn’t flinch,’ he said blankly.

Lucius shrugged and walked over to the mirror.  ‘No, I guess I didn’t,’ he agreed easily.

The glamour darkened his hair three or four shades and shortened it considerably, leaving his ears and neck naked.  It looked…odd.  He was glad to feel his real hair invisible against his skin.

Draco stormed out abruptly, and Lucius frowned at a very bewildered Hermione.

‘Don’t mind him,’ he said reassuringly.  ‘He woke up cranky.  I think he’s out of sorts over his Weasley.  I hope he makes up with her today.  I’m tired of his sulking.’

Hermione shook her head, then smiled weakly.  ‘Shall we?’

He padded after her with puppy-like enthusiasm.  He couldn’t remember ever being this excited about anything before.  If he had been, those memories were gone, courtesy of the Dementors.  Perhaps he had been, as a child.

‘You have to wear this on your wrist,’ she explained when they arrived in the entrance hall, holding up a leather cuff.  ‘After I tap it with my wand, it will start timing us.  We have twelve hours, or else we’ll be automatically Apparated straight to a Ministry holding cell after ten minutes.  It will also keep you within ten meters of me--you’ll feel a tug if you get too far away.  Are you ready?’

He held out his arm in answer, prompting a chuckle from Hermione.  She put the band on his wrist, but paused before tapping it with her wand.

‘I almost forgot!’

She dug a money clip out of her beaded bag and handed it to him.

‘Put that in your inner pocket, here,’ she instructed, patting the corresponding spot on her chest.  ‘I’ll pay for everything, but I thought you should have some Muggle money, just in case.’

He conceded the wisdom of that and tucked the money clip away.  She tapped the cuff with her wand; it glowed blue for a moment.  She put her wand away and held out her hand with an uncertain expression.  He hoped it wasn’t uncertainty about being out with him by herself.

‘Ready?’

He closed his hand around hers.  It was warm and dry and soft.  Her cheeks were pink again and she wouldn’t meet his eye.

‘Ready,’ he said firmly.

She Apparated.

Lucius stumbled slightly on landing.  It turned out to be because he’d landed on the edge of some curbing.

‘Sorry,’ Hermione said sheepishly.

He didn’t even care.  He was busy standing there, blinking and breathing.  It was exactly as he’d imagined it.  The sunlight dazzled his unaccustomed eyes--the chill wind was crisp against his face, through the Muggle suit, sapping any warmth the sun might have offered.  He felt as though every pore of his skin was open, soaking up every particle of free air.

A gentle tug on his hand alerted Lucius to the fact that he hadn’t let go of Hermione’s hand--he released it post-haste, rubbing his fingers together.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ she said hesitantly.

He snapped his head around, felt his face heating despite the wind.  Hopefully she would assume any pinkness in his cheeks _was_ from the wind.

‘We should get moving.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said quickly.  ‘Lead on.’

Her smile became a little firmer and she started walking, leading him out of the alleyway she’d Apparated them into.

Lucius grabbed onto her arm with both hands and hauled her to a stop as he was assaulted by a wall of noise and smell.  How he hadn’t noticed it in the alley was beyond him.  As a Death Eater, he had worked at night, in mainly residential areas.  He had been completely unprepared for this assault on his senses.

It was _overwhelming_ \--a cacophony of motors, horns, voices, footsteps, music, and a thousand other sounds he couldn’t pick out or name.

Hermione gently steered him back into the alley, out of the way of the hurrying Muggles bumping and jostling them.

‘Mr Malfoy?  Are you all right?’

He looked at her with wide eyes.  Her expression was gentle with concern, her dark eyes soft and not at all judgmental.  She gave no indication that she even noticed the death grip he still had on her upper arm.  He loosened his fingers with an effort, but couldn’t quite bring himself to let go.

‘It’s so _loud_ ,’ he said hoarsely.  ‘How do they stand it?’

She reached up with her free hand and patted his hands.  ‘Oh, you get used to it, after a while.’

He made an incredulous sound, but after a few minutes, he had to admit that the noises seemed to fade into the background a little.  It still wasn’t _pleasant_ , but it was more manageable.

Hermione seemed to sense him relaxing; smiling, she pried his fingers off of her arm and loosely held his hand.  He made no attempt to extract it--in fact, he clutched at her hand firmly, feeling a little more secure with the contact.

‘I’m ready now,’ he said, even though he wasn’t quite certain that he was.

‘All right, let’s go, then.’

She expertly led him through the whirl of noisy, smelly humanity.  Lucius held tight to her hand and tried not to openly marvel at her as she navigated the masses.  She seemed to know instinctively when to weave or dodge, when to pause, when to go, exactly how fast or slow to move.  It was like a dance he didn’t know the steps to.  In Diagon Alley, there were no cars to manage, there were _much_ fewer people, and the crowds tended to part when they saw him coming anyway.

Hermione led him through a glass door into a café.  He sighed with relief at the reduction of noise and the presence of elbow room.  In here, normal restaurant sounds and smells filled the air, and he felt able to relax slightly.

A girl in a green polo and a little black apron approached, flipping her ponytail.

‘Morning,’ she said in a clipped, business-like tone.  ‘Two, then?’

‘Yes, just two,’ said Hermione politely.

The girl cracked her gum and grabbed two menus from a stack.  ‘This way.’

She put them at a tiny round table jammed into the corner where the plate-glass windows met the wall, and left without so much as a glance.  Lucius gaped at her retreating back.

‘What is it?’ Hermione asked when she noticed he wasn’t looking at his menu.

‘She was so _rude_ ,’ he said, dumbfounded.

She chuckled.  ‘This is a café, and they’re busy.  She’s not our waitress, so she probably doesn’t see the point in wasting words on us.’

He goggled.  ‘This is _normal_ to you?’

‘Well, I don’t frequent five-star restaurants like you do, so yes,’ she agreed with a wry smile.

A fidgety blonde girl in the café uniform green polo rocketed up to the table before he could formulate a reply.

‘Hi, I’m Emily, I’ll be serving you today, what can I get you to drink?’ she rattled off.

‘A cup of tea and a glass of orange juice for me, thanks,’ Hermione said in the same polite tone as before.  Clearly, she still saw nothing wrong with this situation.

Emily pinned him with her eyes.  ‘And you, love?’

Lucius’s mouth dropped open and no sound came out.  Had she really just _dared_ to call him _love_?!

‘He’ll have the same,’ Hermione said when he remained silent.

‘Great, thanks,’ Emily fired off, and disappeared again.

Hermione chuckled again, and Lucius’s mouth snapped shut.  He glared at her; she twisted her lips in an effort to stop smiling.

‘What?’ she asked innocently.  ‘She smiled, she was friendly--she had to talk fast because they’re busy, and it looks to me like they’re shorthanded today.  She has five or six other tables to wait on.’

He opened his menu with an irritated snap.  ‘That’s no excuse.’

She shook her head and turned to back to her menu.

He recognised a lot of the offerings.  Usually, the food seemed to be something familiar but with some odd twist, like peppers or a strange sauce or something exotic paired with it.  The safest thing appeared to be called a ‘breakfast scramble.’  He was glad he’d eaten before they went out.

Emily returned with their drinks.  Lucius’s cup of tea looked extremely unappealing, but he schooled his expression to polite curiosity.

‘What can I get you, then?’ Emily said so rapidly he almost couldn’t understand her.

Hermione ordered some strange breakfast sandwich with peppers and ‘asiago’ cheese.  He quickly ordered his breakfast scramble thing, and Emily disappeared.

‘What’s wrong with the tea?’ Hermione asked, smirking.

He should’ve known she would see right through him.  Grimacing, he gingerly poked the handle of the cup.

‘It’s _bagged_ ,’ he said unhappily.  ‘And I think this cup may be about three hundred years old.’

She giggled, setting down her own cup so she wouldn’t spill it.  ‘It’s plastic, so I highly doubt that.  And Muggles usually drink bagged tea nowadays.  It’s less hassle than loose leaf.’

‘Since when is the easy way automatically the best way?’ he groused, and bravely took a sip.

No.  He was not drinking that.  He set it down and tried not to gag.  The orange juice tasted good, though, and rather effectively washed out the taste of the so-called ‘tea.’

‘Since never,’ Hermione agreed with a sigh.  ‘Sometimes you don’t have a choice, though--the Muggle world is a lot faster paced than our world.  You have to run to keep up, and you can’t run and stop to make loose leaf tea at the same time.  Teabags can be tossed in a to-go cup.’

Lucius scowled, but he was glad to note the possessive--‘ _our_ world.’  She was a witch, after all.  She should take pride in it--in the world she’d helped save.

‘I don’t want to run,’ he said with a sniff.

Hermione grinned.  ‘You don’t have to.  We’re only here for the day, and we can go at our own pace.’

‘Good.’

Their food arrived.  Lucius stared at his in bewilderment for a moment.  A ‘breakfast scramble’ was apparently a greasy glob of cheese, eggs, sausage and hash browns all mixed together and then fried.

‘That looks good,’ Hermione said cheerfully.

He shot her a doubtful glance and picked up his fork.  He was really, _really_ glad he’d eaten before he left home.

To distract himself from the weird mass he was expected to consume, he looked out the window and around the café at his fellow diners.  The people outside strode by purposefully, some of them holding mobile phones to their ears, others carrying bags or parcels, all of them on some mission or other.  There were a very few people who seemed to be in no hurry, sauntering through the crowd at their own pace.  Those people were generally carrying bags, and he assumed they were shopping.

The other diners looked no different from he and Hermione, to his surprise.  Some of them were in suits and business attire like himself, despite it being a week-end, and others were dressed more casually, but either way, they sat and ate and talked no differently.  If it hadn’t been for the clothing and the lack of magic, he could easily have been sitting in a wizarding café.

‘Seeing anything interesting?’ Hermione asked when he’d been quiet for a long time.

Lucius hummed an agreement, and then frowned at his plate.  He’d eaten half of it already and hardly noticed.  He ran his tongue over his teeth and grimaced at the greasy film.

‘How is it?’

‘Disgusting,’ he said, a note of surprise in his voice, ‘but I can’t stop eating it.  What is wrong with this food?  If it weren’t made by Muggles, I would swear there was some kind of compulsion charm on it.’

She laughed.  ‘Lunch will be better, I promise.’

He put his fork down and looked at her warily.  ‘You’re not going to take me to a fish and chips stand, are you?’

Her grin broadened and she spread her hands.  ‘Cross my heart, no fish and chips.’

He sighed with relief, prompting another giggle from Hermione.  He didn’t mind if she laughed at him, since it meant she no longer seemed ill-at-ease around him.

‘Are we going to Parliament next?’ he asked, sipping his orange juice to wash out some of the grease.

‘Yep, on to Westminster,’ she agreed, finishing off her sandwich.

‘Are we going to take the Tube there?’

He felt a little eager at the idea--an adventure, and more importantly, a chance to use some of the knowledge from his textbook--but Hermione’s brow furrowed.

‘Um…I was just going to Apparate us any distances that are too far to walk, and I think we could probably just walk from here to there anyway,’ she said uneasily.

Lucius pouted.  ‘Why do you have it in your book if we’re not supposed to do it?’

‘I meant it more for in cases of emergency….’

His pout grew more pronounced.

Hermione sighed.  ‘Mr Malfoy, I really, _really_ don’t think you’re going to like it.’

‘How will I know if I don’t try it?’ he asked reasonably.

She looked a little desperate now.  ‘It’s underground.  I thought you wanted to be outside?’

He played a card he knew would win.  ‘I’m supposed to be looking for inspiration for my final project, aren’t I?  What if the Tube held the perfect idea, and we missed it because you wouldn’t let me try it?’

Hermione scowled, and Lucius felt very smug.

‘All right, fine,’ she said unhappily.  ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

She paid their bill and left a tip before leading the way back to the door.  He grabbed her hand as soon as it opened, and she flashed him a reassuring smile, but didn’t try to dislodge him.  She threaded through the crowd again, back part of the way they’d come, and they followed the flow of people down the steps into the land under the sidewalk.  Lucius might have felt giddy, but there was a rather off-putting smell that curbed any sense of whimsy or adventurousness.

‘Why does it smell like--’

‘It’s the Tube,’ Hermione cut him off.  ‘It’s a subway system.  They _all_ smell like that.’

He wrinkled his nose and tried not to touch anything.  She shot him a smug look of her own, but didn’t say anything.

She showed him how to buy a ticket, and then they passed through a set of gates.  There were people everywhere, going every direction.  A voice on a loudspeaker kept making announcements, echoing in the passageway, and there were brightly-coloured signs everywhere.  It was all very disorienting.  He held Hermione’s hand tighter and stayed close to her.  She squeezed back reassuringly, and led him to stand on a platform.

He cautiously looked around, reminding himself that he was supposed to be looking for project ideas.

‘What are those?’ he asked softly, bending close to her ear.

She looked where he indicated.  ‘Vending machines.  You put money in them and you get something back.’

‘Like what?’

‘It depends on the type of vending machine.  Most of them dispense beverages or snacks.  Sometimes you can find ones that dispense ice creams, and in hospitals and some businesses, they sometimes have ones that provide microwaveable meals or sandwiches.  There are even vending machines that dispense office supplies, adhesive bandages, electronics, pregnancy tests, or even condoms.’

Lucius let out a half-snort, half-giggle that was definitely not dignified at all and turned bright red.  She grinned at him, enjoying his embarrassment, and he looked away.

‘That particular set of vending machines dispenses beverages,’ she added.

Lucius wished he hadn’t looked away, because on the other side of the platform, there was a man very diligently picking his nose.  He looked back down at Hermione.

‘This is disgusting,’ he said matter-of-factly.

She laughed.  ‘I told you.’

The train arrived in a cloud of smelly air, noisy and abrupt.  The doors snapped open, and Hermione pushed him on.  There was no room to sit, so she nudged him to grab onto the pole in the middle.  He did, but with his free hand.  He wasn’t letting go of her hand unless he absolutely had to.

It was a very strange mixture of people.  There were business people, snapping angrily into their phones or tapping away at the laptops perched on their knees; there were average, normal people who dressed very similarly to Potter, clutching their purchases and looking bored; worst of all to Lucius, though, were the grubby, smelly people who looked like they hadn’t bathed or changed their clothes in years.  He’d never seen--or smelled--such disgusting people.

‘Stop staring,’ Hermione hissed into his ear.

He shot her a surprised glance.  She looked extremely disapproving, and Lucius inwardly shrank away from it, feeling inexplicably cold amidst the crush of bodies.

‘They’re homeless people, Mr Malfoy,’ she explained when she saw his confused chastisement.  ‘They can’t help how they look.’

He blinked.  ‘Homeless?’

‘Homeless.  They have no home.  They have nowhere to live.’

Her eyes were hard, and she looked away from him with an angry set to her jaw.  She pulled her hand out of his grip and held onto the pole with both hands.  He struggled to understand--he didn’t want her to be angry with him.

‘We don’t have those in the Wizarding world,’ he said helplessly.  ‘Or at least, none that I know of.’

She didn’t answer.  The train lurched, and Lucius’s stomach lurched with it.

A woman sneezed into her hand and then went back to gripping the pole--with _the same hand_.  Lucius removed his hand from the pole with alacrity, wiping it on his pants.  Hermione softened, smiling and rolling her eyes at him.

‘Can we get off now?’ he asked pleadingly.

‘At the next stop,’ she agreed.

He nearly fell over when the train jolted to a stop, but Hermione caught him.  She quickly linked their hands again and pulled him through the press of people, back onto the platform.  They moved through the passages, back through a different set of gates, and emerged onto a different street.  He took a deep breath of the much-less-smelly air.  She pulled him into a recess, out of the way.

‘Cleaning charms,’ he insisted urgently.

Blocking the view with their bodies, she obligingly cast a cleaning charm on their hands.

‘You were right, I was wrong,’ he said quickly.  ‘I _don’t_ want to do that again.’

Hermione smiled and held out her hand.  He took it with relief, drawing a breath that felt much easier now that she seemed to be over her fit of pique.

‘Where are we now?’ he wondered when they’d walked for a while.

‘Charing Cross.  We’ll be in Trafalgar Square in a moment.’

He nodded in acknowledgement and then craned his neck, looking this way and that, trusting her to guide him safely through the crowds.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Well, this is the Palace of Westminster,’ Hermione said, waving a hand at it.  ‘Nothing too exciting, I suppose.’

Lucius thought it was.  It was much bigger than the picture in the textbook.  It made him wonder how big the Eiffel Tower in Paris was--on the rare occasions that he’d been to France, he’d been in Marseille.  Personally, he preferred Tuscany.  French wizards were so snobby; Italians were more relaxed.

‘Did you want to tour the Elizabeth Tower?’ she asked, nudging him.  ‘I applied ahead with my MP, so we can if you want to.’

He frowned.  ‘No, I want to stay outside,’ he said honestly.

Surely, there were books with pictures of the inside in them.

She only smiled.  ‘Fair enough.’

She didn’t rush him, either, letting him wander around the outside of the building, tugging her along after him, for a half hour.

‘All right, we can go now,’ he said when he was satisfied, and when a group of tourists came and took over the sidewalk, their cameras raised in unison.

Hermione led him away from the river, and Westminster Abbey was right there.  They walked around to the front of the building, but Lucius didn’t want to go inside there, either.

‘Are you sure?  There’s a lot of tombs and relics and things, and some beautiful stained glass….’

She trailed off, because he was resolutely shaking his head.  She smiled wryly.

‘All right then.  We’ll just look at the outside.’

He relaxed a little, and peered up at the building curiously.  They were interrupted, however, by an American couple.  Lucius shot them a glare as they approached Hermione, but they were undeterred.

‘Excuse me, I’m sorry to bug you, but we’re lost,’ the man said sheepishly.  ‘We keep ending up here no matter which direction we go.’

Hermione smiled patiently and let go of Lucius’s hand to step over to their map.  ‘Where are you trying to go?’

Lucius tuned them out, scowling darkly at this unwanted interruption.  After a few minutes, though, he had his own problem to deal with.

‘Excuse me,’ a Japanese lady greeted him.  ‘Can you take our picture, please?’

He blinked at the camera she was holding out.  It didn’t look anything like the cameras wizards used, lacking the giant flash on top.  It looked like little more than a black plastic box.

‘I….’

There were three ladies, looking at him hopefully.

‘Sure…?’  He hoped he could, anyway.

They grinned and got into a pose.  He took the camera gingerly, as though it might explode, and wracked his brains for everything he’d read about Muggle cameras.  It appeared to be on.  He searched for the button on top and found it.  It took him a moment to find the viewscreen and put his eye to it, because it was really tiny.  He pointed it in the ladies’ direction and pushed the button.  It made a little snapping sound, but otherwise he couldn’t tell that anything had happened.

‘I…think it took?’ he said uncertainly.

‘I’ll check,’ the lady who’d handed it to him said, and she activated a glowing screen that was really quite fascinating.  She moved her thumb over a tiny little button and then looked up at him with a smile.  ‘It took.  Thank you very much!’

‘You’re welcome.’

They walked away together, arms linked and chattering happily.  Lucius turned to find Hermione standing alone, apparently done with the American couple, smiling at him.  She looked very nice, he thought, her cheeks pink from the wind, wrapped in a scarf and framed by autumn trees.

‘That glowing screen thing is interesting,’ he said, feeling unaccountably embarrassed.  ‘I wish I’d got a better look at it.’

She held out her hand for him to take.  He gladly did so, his gut unclenching as soon as they touched.  He didn’t want to get separated from her in such a crowded area.

‘It’s an LED screen,’ she explained.  ‘If you buy the textbook I wrote for the N.E.W.T. years, you’ll find out all about them.’

‘I will just have to do that,’ he said easily.

Hermione grinned at him and then ducked her head, and Lucius smiled, sighing happily.

They walked to Buckingham Palace, which Lucius thought was kind of a waste of time, all things considered.  It didn’t impress him much, since Malfoy Manor was easily larger, and the outer façades were very similar.  Malfoy Manor was just made from darker marble, and less emphasis was placed on the columns.

He expressed these thoughts to Hermione, and she laughed and leaned on him, saying, ‘Oh, you.’  He didn’t know why it was so funny, but it was much better than fear or anger, so he didn’t mind.

They went to lunch after that, and, as promised, it was a much more upscale establishment.  The teacups were actually ceramic instead of plastic, and there were cloth napkins.  Lucius placed his in his lap with an approving nod.

‘This is much more civilised.’

Hermione chuckled.  ‘So glad you approve, Mr Malfoy.’

He frowned.  ‘ _Lucius_ ,’ he corrected.

Her eyes widened and the smile dropped from her face.  ‘Um….’

‘You told me I could call you Hermione outside of class, so I think you can call me by my first name outside of class, too.’  He tried not to fidget anxiously as a thought occurred to him.  ‘We _are_ friends, aren’t we?’

Slowly, she smiled, and the anxiety gradually faded, allowing him to swallow again as it loosened its grip on his throat.

‘Yes, we’re friends,’ she agreed.  After a brief pause, she added, ‘Lucius,’ and he no longer felt the chill from a morning spent outside in the cold wind.

‘Good,’ he said with supreme satisfaction.

_Take that, Draco.  I_ do _have a ‘_ real _’ friend._

He felt very relaxed as he opened and scanned his menu.  He was so pleased with himself, in fact, that he got brave and ordered a Muggle soft drink (although he did make sure to ask for a water, too, just in case).

Hermione grinned when it arrived, and Lucius looked at the bubbles curiously.

‘It’s carbonation,’ she explained.  ‘It’s what Muggles use to make drinks fizzy, rather than a charm or magical ingredient.’

‘Ah.’

He took a tentative sip.  It was no different in texture than any wizarding fizzy drinks, which he’d never been fond of.  The flavour, though, was very unique and strange.

‘What do you think?’ she prompted eagerly.

He tilted his head back and forth.  ‘It’s odd.  It’s sweet but…not, at the same time.  It tastes a little like something medicinal.’

She giggled.  ‘That’s because it was, once upon a time.  When they were first invented, Muggles used them to cure stomach aches and minor ailments of that nature.’

‘Really?’  He frowned, puzzled.  ‘And they drink them for fun now?’

He couldn’t imagine taking a Pepper-up Potion recreationally, just for the taste.  Then again, Pepper-up Potion tasted like licking an ashtray, and also vomit.  This soft drink did not taste like either of those things.

‘Well, I wouldn’t exactly phrase it that way, but essentially, yes.’

He considered her.  ‘Do _you_ like them?’

Hermione smiled.  ‘My parents are dentists.  I wasn’t allowed to have soft drinks--not even the artificially sweetened kind.  I guess I never developed a taste for them.’

Lucius hid a wince at the mention of her parents by looking down at his menu again.  He still felt guilty about that, particularly since Draco had informed him that her parents’ memories hadn’t been restored, even when Hermione hired professionals, and so they were still in Australia, oblivious to the existence of their own child.  Hermione had got her cat back, and that was it.  It hadn’t been specifically because of Lucius, but he felt more to blame than most, since he’d actually seen her parents.  It was across a bookshop, and he hadn’t formally met them, but surely the fact that he even vaguely knew what they looked like had been of concern to her, and a deciding factor in sending them away.

‘Sorry,’ she said darkly, having seen the wince in spite of his attempt to hide it, but evidently drawing the wrong conclusion.  ‘I won’t mention my parents if the fact that they’re Muggles still bothers you.’

Lucius shook his head.  ‘It’s not _that_ ,’ he said tightly.

She looked at him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and then apparently decided to drop it.  He wondered what she’d seen in his face, but he was so relieved to have moved on that he didn’t dare ask.

‘What are you going to get?’ she asked instead, her tone deliberately light.

He drew a deep breath.  ‘Oh, I don’t know.  I was thinking about one of these things with barbeque sauce on them.  I’ve never had it.’

Hermione’s brows rose in surprise.  ‘You are missing out.  Why haven’t you had it?’

‘Narcissa didn’t like it, and wouldn’t allow it anywhere near her kitchen.  I guess the house elves got used to making things without it.’

‘And before that?’

Lucius frowned.  ‘Before that?  I don’t…remember,’ he admitted.

She tilted her head, wordlessly asking for explication.

‘There isn’t much left of my childhood, since Azkaban,’ he said softly.  ‘I guess that means it was happy.  I don’t remember my mother at all.  I remember her funeral, but I was quite young, I suppose….’

She went white, and reached out and touched his hand.

‘I suppose that means I could’ve eaten barbeque before, and I just don’t remember,’ he added, trying to smile and sound cheerful.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said lowly.

Lucius shrugged uncomfortably and looked down at his menu, the words blurring.  She didn’t let go of his hand, and after a moment he turned the palm up and closed his fingers around hers, silently seeking comfort.  She gave a little squeeze, and he did feel a little better.

‘Probably the ribs, then,’ he said after clearing his throat.

‘I think that’s a good choice,’ she agreed.  ‘I might have the same thing.’

‘Copycat.’

She smiled.

The rest of lunch was much less fraught, as Lucius asked about things around him that made him curious, and Hermione happily explained.

She didn’t let go of his hand, and he was glad.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

After lunch, she found a private spot to Apparate them and they began their ‘window’ shopping.  At its root, the experience was very similar to Diagon Alley--it was the dressings that made the whole environment different.  There were still cars to watch out for, and there were bright neon signs and posters and advertisements splashed on every available surface, or so it seemed to Lucius.  People stood outside smoking or holding their dogs’ leashes, congregating outside of cafés and restaurants.  Shops displayed their wares in their windows just like in Diagon Alley--the wares themselves were the difference.

‘Let me know if you see any shops you’d like to go in,’ Hermione said as they sauntered down the road.

The pace here was much more leisurely than it had been in the tourist and business areas.  Some people rushed past, but most people seemed content to stroll, particularly since the wind had died down a little.

‘We could go in here,’ he said, indicating a boutique displaying various baskets and boxes and oddments, with a sign proclaiming they were all unique and handmade.  He couldn’t quite fathom them being otherwise--he still hadn’t quite grasped the Muggle methods of mass production.  Wizards just didn’t do that.

Hermione glanced at it and shrugged.  ‘Sure.’

They wandered in.  There were a lot of wicker things.  Lucius was bored after a few minutes, but Hermione saw something for her cat, so he indulgently stood nearby while she looked over the selection.

‘I’m telling you, you’re crazy,’ he overheard a couple of men saying on the other side of the aisle.  ‘You need to stock up on water and shit.  Y-2-K is _coming_.’

‘Whatever,’ the other man said.  ‘I don’t think it’s going to be that big a deal.’

Lucius frowned and edged closer to Hermione.  After they were gone, he leaned down and whispered, ‘Hermione?’

‘Hmm?  I’m almost done,’ she said distractedly.

‘What’s Y-2-K?’ he asked anyway.

She looked up in surprise.  ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I overheard some gentlemen discussing it.  What is it?’

She smiled.  ‘Y2K is the year 2000.  This upcoming year.  Some Muggles are worried about it because they think all the computers will crash and civilisation as we know it will end.’

Lucius snorted.  ‘Well, that’s just ridiculous.  Even Muggles got along just fine before they invented computers.’

She shook her head.  ‘Yes, but they’ve been depending on them for quite some time.  The real ridiculousness is that they don’t think the people who run things have anticipated this year coming and compensated for any problems that otherwise might have happened.  It will all be just fine, I’m sure.’

He frowned.  ‘I need to learn more about computers.’

‘My advanced textbook,’ she said with a grin.  ‘Although, may I recommend that you read the intermediate textbook first?’

‘Next you’ll be recommending that I finish the beginner’s textbook, and your class, first.’

She nodded sagely.  ‘That would make sense.’

He just shook his head.

She made her purchases and they went back out into the street.  Lucius took her bag for her, eliciting a warm smile.  He didn’t see any more shops he thought were interesting, but Hermione wanted to stop in a bookshop, so he waited outside while she slipped inside.  She promised it would be a quick stop, but he glanced at his watch, determined to time her.  She had twenty minutes before he went in and dragged her out.

While he was waiting, he noted two women standing on the corner with a little table and a box.  They were collecting donations, it seemed, and he strained his ears and eyes to try to figure out what.  A charity of some kind, apparently.

Hermione emerged before he could figure it out, bearing another bag.  He took it from her and drew her attention to the women.

‘Oh, they’re collecting donations a little early.  If this were around Christmas time, you’d see them on nearly every corner,’ she said vaguely.

‘Donations for what?’ Lucius pressed impatiently.

She frowned a little.  ‘Well, these particular collectors belong to an organisation that caters to homeless and impoverished children, primarily.  They use the money to buy them food, blankets, coats and shoes.  Things that their parents can’t afford to buy for them, if they’re fortunate enough to have parents, that is.’

She tugged on his sleeve, but Lucius was rooted to the spot.

‘They don’t have shoes?’ he said, shocked.  ‘And they can’t just…?’

Hermione let out a breath, her lips set in a thin line.  ‘Just what, Lucius?  Use a Warming Charm?  Conjure a pair of shoes?  Transfigure something into a coat?’

He stared at her, aghast.

‘There is no way in which a homeless wizard in possession of a wand is not _still_ better off than a Muggle in the same position,’ she said tersely.

He felt about two inches tall.  Guilt was an all-too familiar feeling lately, but now it was accompanied by a feeling of general illness that it took him a moment to understand--the sudden awareness of his own good fortune, having been born into a wealthy family.  He had never known a winter without the basic necessities (and then some), and fortunately, neither had Draco.  Hopefully, Draco’s children would never know such a fate, either.  The image of the homeless people on the train surfaced in his mind--but instead of finding it disgusting, this time he was moved to pity.  It was not familiar.

Lucius felt for the money clip in his pocket.  Hermione watched him with a puzzled expression.

‘Hermione, is this a lot of money?’ he asked softly.

‘It’s a fair amount,’ she replied, with dawning understanding.

‘I’ll pay you back in Galleons when we get back tonight,’ he said, and took off across the street.

‘Lucius!’

He didn’t pause, although he did just barely avoid getting plastered into the pavement by a car.  He tossed the money in the box and turned away, fleeing back to Hermione’s side.

‘Thank you, sir!’ one of the women called after him.

He hunched his shoulders and walked faster.  Hermione was smiling softly at him when he reached her.  He felt his face heat.

‘What?’ he snapped defensively.

‘Nothing,’ she said gently, and took his hand.

He let out a breath, but he only really relaxed when they’d put a few blocks’ distance between them and the women and their box.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Hermione?’

‘Yes, Lucius?’

‘I don’t want to go in the museum.’

They were standing outside the Natural History Museum, and Lucius had forgotten to spend the day convincing her that parks were much more educational.  Fortunately, she only nodded.  Apparently, he’d made his aversion to being inside fairly clear throughout the day.

‘Okay.  Where would you like to go, then?’

He hesitated.  ‘Can we go to a park and watch the Muggles?’

Hermione smiled.  ‘Sure.  How about Kensington Gardens?’

‘That’s a park?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then all right.’

They walked to another secluded spot and she Apparated them straight into a patch of bushes.  Lucius extracted himself with difficulty, followed by a chuckling Hermione.

‘Sorry,’ she laughed.  ‘Usually I can manage _behind_ the bushes.  I think my concentration is off today.’

He brushed his suit off.  ‘You come here often?’

‘Often enough.  It’s a nice spot to get away from things.  Sometimes I find it helps refresh my mind when I’m out of ideas.’

They linked hands and began to stroll, instantly blending in with the other couples and families doing the same thing.  Lucius tried to remain keenly observant, but he soon found himself lulled by the quiet, the light breeze rustling through the few remaining leaves on the trees, sending some of them fluttering to the ground.  The sun was a little warmer now that it was afternoon, and Hermione was a silent, steady presence by his side.  Contentment rolled over him and he thought nothing at all.  He saw what she meant by it being refreshing.

They made the rounds a few times, and then found a bench in the sun to sit on.  Lucius tilted his head back and closed his eyes, soaking up the sunlight and the fresh air.  Hermione got out her new book and quietly read, just letting him be.  He thought perhaps she was the most perfect companion in the world.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

For her part, Hermione was only pretending to read.  Today had been an exercise in torture from beginning to end, and she was taking the opportunity she’d been given to rest and recuperate.  For starters, the news that Draco wouldn’t be along to provide a buffer between them had been a severe blow to her confidence.  Then, she hadn’t been expecting Lucius’s severe reaction to all the noise and smell and unfamiliarity of the Muggle part of the city.  She hadn’t wanted any more physical contact between them than necessary, but she couldn’t bear the lost, frightened look on his face.  After that, he simply seemed to expect that she would hang onto him and keep him from getting lost, and it did seem quite practical to make sure they didn’t get separated, so she kept offering her hand, and he kept taking it.

As expected, she’d had to control her expression and reactions for most of the day.  His proximity and his dependence on her had made it more difficult than ever.

She _hadn’t_ expected the emotional roller coaster he’d put her on.  He started out the day by being pitiful and adorable, particularly with his disgust at breakfast.  She’d been so outraged by his elitist snobbery toward the homeless people they’d seen on the train and on the platforms, but it had been hard to maintain the anger in the face of his helplessness.  Then, she’d hid what remained of the anger, only to find him doing a favour for a stranger, reminding her of how kind he could be when he wished to, and the rest of her anger had slipped away.  After that, at lunch, the reminder of all he’d gone through--the knowledge that thanks to a horrific year in Azkaban, Lucius didn’t even remember his own mother--her heart had ached for him, and she only wanted to cheer him up and make him feel better.  His anxious request for reassurance that they were, in fact, friends, had been equal parts touching and reassuring for her, too.

Hermione had been fully prepared to be angry again when he asked about the collection box and the volunteer women, only for him to run across traffic just to donate at the mere thought of children he didn’t even know going all winter without shoes.  Her heart had absolutely melted, and she was glad now to have a little space to recover and emotionally distance herself again.

Although that was incredibly difficult when he was sitting there looking all peaceful and beautiful.  Even with the glamour altering his appearance, he was still gorgeous--and Hermione hated herself for even thinking it.  It also made it difficult to distance herself now that she had his permission--his _encouragement_ \--to call him Lucius (to his face).  It was a little too much temptation, but she hadn’t been able to refuse him.  She thought it incredibly weak of her.

Then there had been the moment when she thought he was being disgusted by her blood status again.  It had taken her a moment to see through her own immediate hurt and anger to realise that it wasn’t disgust on his face, but guilt.  She wasn’t sure why a mention of her parents made him feel guilty, but it was hard to take issue with it, either.  She’d actually ended up feeling a little ashamed of herself for automatically assuming the worst.

‘You’re not reading anymore,’ Lucius mumbled without opening his eyes.

She smiled, surprised.  Not even Harry and Ron knew when she was faking, and Lucius hadn’t even had to look at her to be able to tell.  She’d been periodically turning pages and everything.

‘I’m just thinking,’ she said a little sheepishly.

‘About?’

She hesitated.  ‘You, mostly.’

He cracked open an eye, tilting his head to one side to look at her.  ‘Oh?  What did I do?’

Hermione huffed out a laugh.  ‘Why do you automatically assume you did something?’

He shut his eye and shrugged one shoulder.  ‘I’m a terrible person,’ he said casually.  ‘If something goes wrong, it’s usually my fault, and if someone’s thinking about me or talking about me, it’s not usually because I did something good.’

Her stomach dropped and she closed her book.  ‘You don’t…you don’t really think that?’

‘Most of the time.’  He paused, then cracked open his eye again, peering at her.  ‘Not when I’m with you.’

She smiled, warmth filling her despite her stern reprimand to herself.  ‘Really?’

‘Really.’

He didn’t explain, shutting his eye and relaxing again, and Hermione smiled, opening her book again, but not yet reading.

‘I was thinking about today and how much fun we’ve had, actually,’ she said, which was mostly true.  ‘See, nothing bad.’

He smiled without opening his eyes and she saw his chest rise and fall in a sigh that certainly looked content.  She turned back to her book and actually started reading it this time.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius stood reluctantly when Hermione said it was time to go, automatically snagging her hand.  She didn’t resist.

‘Where do you have to stop in really quickly?’ he asked as they headed back toward her bushes.

‘Oh, I figured while we’re in London I’d pop in on my parents’ old house, and my rental property,’ she explained.  ‘The renters at the flat block have been complaining about the heater making noise, and the renters at my parents’ house say there’s a draught in the living room.  I have to check in before I know who to call, and they’ve already said we can swing by.’

‘You own rental property?’ he said, surprised.  ‘Then why do you rent a flat?’

‘Yes, I own a _small_ block of flats--only four, actually.  And I rent because I haven’t found a place I really want to live yet,’ she explained, kicking a rock along the path.  ‘I couldn’t bear to live in my parents’ house after they couldn’t be brought back.  It’s hard to shop for a home with only a cat to ask for opinions, you know?  All Crookshanks cares is that we bring his bed and his favourite toys with us wherever we move.’

He raised his brows.  ‘Yes, cats aren’t well-known for their opinions on square footage.’

‘Or the colour of the kitchen tile,’ she agreed.  ‘Before I signed the lease on my flat, I asked Crookshanks what he thought of the green tile, and he just yawned at me.  As long as food comes out of the kitchen and into his mouth, he doesn’t care what colour the floor is.’

They Apparated to a quiet, residential street.  The block of flats really _was_ small--almost tiny.  It was actually a home that had been converted into four studio flats.  There were four young people living there, one for each flat, and two of them were male.  Lucius instinctively glared at them before they were even introduced, and they seemed properly intimidated.

‘Lucius, this is Charlie, John, Angela and Tina, my renters,’ Hermione said cheerfully.  ‘Everyone, this is my friend Lucius.’

The boys waved tentatively, Angela shook his hand, and Tina blushed and mumbled a hello from behind her scarf.

‘I’ll just be a second,’ Hermione said to Lucius, and disappeared into the basement.

Lucius and the four young Muggles stared at one another.

‘So…are you from around here?’ Charlie finally got brave enough to squeak.

Lucius glowered.  ‘No.’

Charlie subsided with a meek nod.

Angela was still brave, since Lucius wasn’t glaring at her or Tina.  ‘Have you known Hermione long?’

He sighed.  Small talk.  ‘Since she was twelve.’  With an effort, he forced himself to sound halfway interested and asked, ‘How long have you known her?’

‘Like, almost a year….’

‘You must be really old, huh?’ Tina giggled.

Lucius stared at the ceiling.  Patience, he reminded himself sternly.

‘I am in my forties, if you consider that old.  She and my son went to school together,’ he explained slowly.

‘Oooooooh,’ said Tina, and he lowered his estimation of her intelligence by several more degrees.

John decided it was his turn and took a deep breath.  ‘Um.  So what do you do?’

‘I’m a wealthy heir,’ he sniffed imperiously.  ‘I do whatever I please.’

The four of them exchanged a glance that he didn’t care enough to try to read.

‘Must be nice,’ Angela commented mildly.

‘It is,’ Lucius said crisply.

Fortunately, Hermione chose that moment to return.  She was smiling, so it must have been good news.

‘I’ll call the heating place tomorrow,’ she told the tenants.  ‘It doesn’t look like anything serious, so hopefully it will be an easy fix.’

They seemed much cheered by that, and also by Lucius’s exit from the building.

‘How do you put up with those _idiots_?’ he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot, far down the sidewalk.

Hermione smiled.  ‘They’re not as stupid as they seem.  They’re uni students, so most of their brain power is dedicated to making it through their classes.  Also, I don’t have to live there, so it’s very easy to be patient and tolerant on the rare occasions that I have to stop in like this.’

He calmed himself with an effort, breathing out slowly.  ‘How long have you owned that building?’

‘Since last December.  I had started renting out my parents’ old house in September, and it was going pretty well, so I decided to expand a little.  It gives me a fairly elastic income, with very little maintenance on my part.’

‘Forgive my curiosity, I’m just surprised.  I had no idea you were a woman of property,’ he said lightly.

She grinned.  ‘I own two houses.  That’s not exactly a “woman of property.”’

‘It’s property, you own it, and you’re a woman,’ Lucius said reasonably.  ‘Two plus two still equals four in the Muggle world, doesn’t it?’

She laughed, then, her breath visible on the cooling air, and shook her head, not dignifying that with a response.  Lucius felt very content.

They walked down a few blocks, turned a corner, and walked a few more blocks before they arrived in front of a small, neat little home.  There was a little boy sitting on the front steps, but he ran inside as soon as they turned up the walk.  A woman, probably his mother, emerged a moment later.

‘Hermione!’ she greeted with obvious relief.  ‘I’m so glad you could stop by.  Michael has been so, so busy lately that he hasn’t had time to figure it out, and I thought this would be quicker.’

‘It’s no problem, Janet, I told you, you can call me anytime,’ Hermione said, waving a hand.  ‘Janet, this is Lucius; Lucius, Janet.’

Lucius hesitantly offered his hand, but the woman shook it warmly, seeming not at all intimidated by him as the young people had been.

‘Why don’t you both come in?’

She ushered them inside, and Hermione went straight into the living room, on the hunt for the source of the draught.  Lucius stood in the foyer and looked around cautiously.  He couldn’t quite imagine Hermione growing up here, not with other people’s things all around and other people’s pictures on the walls.  In a way, though, her easy comfort and obvious familiarity with the house spoke for itself.

‘Can I get you anything, Lucius?’ Janet offered politely, watching him with blatant curiosity.

He shook his head minutely.  ‘No, thank you.’

She didn’t go away.  He shifted uncomfortably and pretended not to notice her staring at him.  Still, he nearly collapsed with relief when Hermione returned, shaking her head and frowning.

‘The seal on the window is going bad,’ she explained to Janet, and did not seem to be aware of what Lucius was doing when he edged behind her, using her as a barrier between the two of them.  ‘I’ll have to call someone tomorrow and get it replaced.’

Janet seemed pleased to have an answer, and they quickly said their farewells.  Out on the sidewalk, Hermione scowled at him; he hadn’t got away with it after all.

‘She was staring at me,’ he said defensively when Hermione opened her mouth to harangue him.  ‘She wouldn’t stop.  It was creepy.’

Hermione’s face relaxed into wry amusement.  ‘She was just enjoying the view.’

Lucius was confused.  ‘What?’

‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a very attractive man, Lucius,’ she explained slowly, still smirking at him.  ‘Other people have a tendency to notice when they’re presented with an attractive person.’

He blinked.  ‘Isn’t she married?’

‘Yes, but her husband is away a lot.  You can’t blame her for looking,’ she added, continuing to walk down the street.

‘Yes, I can,’ he sniffed, disgusted.

Hermione shot him a surprised glance.  ‘Can you honestly tell me that you never even glanced at another female in a non-platonic way while you and Narcissa were married?’

He hedged.  ‘Not that I recall, although I confess there are gaps in my memory of our married life.  Significant ones, sometimes,’ he added with a grimace.  ‘I do know that I did my best to be faithful to Narcissa in word, deed, and thought.  That includes schooling one’s eyes, not allowing stray glances.’

She still seemed dubious.  ‘And you don’t think Narcissa looked at other men while she was married to you?’

‘Oh, no, I know she did.  She looked but didn’t touch.  But that was different, she didn’t want to be married to me anymore.’  He looked at her curiously.  ‘Aren’t you faithful when you’re in a relationship?’

It didn’t strike him as very Hermione-like to stray.

She frowned.  ‘I’ve only been in one real relationship, but no, when I was with Ron, I didn’t look at other men.  I was rather focused on making it work with him, so I didn’t need any distractions.’  After a pause, she added, ‘I’m not entirely convinced that looking at another person and noting that he or she is attractive counts as being unfaithful, though.’

Lucius shrugged.  ‘To each his or her own.  I would never expect my partner to show the same level of commitment, but personally, I try to keep my eyes where they belong--on my partner.’

It was Hermione’s turn to look at him curiously.  ‘You consider that a show of commitment?’

‘It _is_ a show of commitment,’ he insisted.  ‘If one is truly devoted to one’s partner, one shouldn’t need to look elsewhere.’

She appeared to contemplate that, but in the end, all she said was, ‘Hmm.’

They arrived in front of another neat little home, nearly identical to all the others on this street, but before Lucius could ask if this was the Garrisons’, a plump little woman threw open the door and enveloped Hermione in a bear hug.

‘Hermione,’ a tall, reedy sort of man greeted her more sedately.

They were both tugged inside, and Hermione rather breathlessly turned to introduce him.

‘Lucius, this is Sam and Linda Garrison,’ she panted.  ‘Sam, Linda, this is my friend, Lucius Malfoy.’

Linda pumped his hand with such enthusiasm that Lucius feared for his wrist.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr Malfoy!  Any friend of Hermione’s is a friend of ours!  Are you a coffee man or a tea man?’

Lucius retrieved his hand gingerly.  ‘Uh…tea?’

‘Excellent!’ she cried, and disappeared into the bowels of the house.

Lucius stared at Hermione, who turned a very becoming shade of red, smiling sheepishly.

‘Don’t mind her, she’s always like that,’ Sam wheezed, and shook his hand much more delicately.

‘Have you forgotten about me?’ a new voice said from around the corner, just before a handsome young man came into view.  He smirked at them and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

‘Of course not,’ said Sam calmly.

‘Stewart!’ Hermione cried with evident glee, and ran to embrace him.  ‘It’s so good to see you!’

Lucius scowled as they hugged, and cleared his throat after a moment.  The hug broke up, but Stewart’s hand lingered on Hermione’s shoulder.

‘Sorry--Lucius, this is their son, Stewart.  He and I used to race our bikes up and down the street, remember?’ she added, grinning at Stewart.

‘I remember,’ said Stewart.  ‘I also remember you repeatedly beating me.’

She giggled.  ‘Stewart, this is my friend, Lucius Malfoy.’

Stewart shook his hand, but his distaste was evident.  ‘How do you do,’ he said flatly.

‘Pleasure,’ Lucius replied in an equally flat tone.

‘How long has it been?’ Hermione exclaimed, oblivious to the tension.  ‘Two years?  Three?’

‘Try five,’ Stewart corrected.  ‘The last time I saw you, you’d just got out of the hospital after your accident.’

‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said, a little subdued at the reminder.  ‘Anyway, how are you?  What have you been doing with yourself?’

They exchanged news and gossip, and Lucius felt a bit lost.  He tried to distract himself by looking around the house.  It was rather fascinating to see all the Muggle items so casually embedded around him.  Unlike in the textbook, where they were separate and almost theoretical, here he could plainly see the television naturally tucked into a corner, and in the kitchen, all the various apparatuses lived together in harmony.  He wandered into the kitchen upon spotting the refrigerator, hardly noticing that Sam followed him.

‘Here’s your tea, Mr Malfoy, I was just about to bring it out to you,’ Linda chirruped.

Lucius took the cup distractedly.  The refrigerator was coated with colourful magnets, some of them holding down scraps of papers or photographs.  He ran a finger along the top.

‘Is this new?’ he wondered.

Sam huffed out a laugh.  ‘No, that thing’s about twenty years old.  We’ve been meaning to get a new one.’

Lucius nodded, mostly to himself, and bent down to look at the vent.  It was in desperate need of cleaning.

‘Are you, uh, interested in refrigerators, Mr Malfoy?’ Linda asked uncertainly.

Lucius straightened and offered them a tight smile.  ‘It’s a hobby.’

They exchanged a glance, but then Sam shrugged and they seemed to take a ‘to each their own’ sort of attitude.  Linda excused herself and Sam obligingly answered Lucius’s questions, even the ones that he evidently thought were pretty stupid, if his expression was anything to go by.  Bitterly, Lucius wished Hermione wasn’t so distracted with her _childhood friend_.  She never made him feel stupid when he asked questions, even if she might have thought them obvious.

He managed to thoroughly investigate the refrigerator, the microwave, and the stove before Linda herded them all into the dining room.  Hermione sat next to him, to his relief, but she was across from Stewart, and he kept _smiling_ at her.  Not just any smile--Lucius knew that smile.  It made his hackles rise, though he tried not to show it.

The meal was overly salty, so he didn’t eat much, but Lucius definitely got what Hermione intended for him to see and understand.  Muggles were much more casual than the Malfoys about mealtimes--there was no real etiquette.  Elbows were propped on tables, occasionally people spoke with their mouths full, interruptions of one another were frequent and treated jovially, and conversation was lively and not confined.  It was very relaxed, but Lucius didn’t think that necessarily made it _better_.  He, for one, was not a fan of being sprayed with gravy when someone at the table realised they’d forgotten something they were going to say and remembered it suddenly, but were too impatient to swallow first before they began speaking.

‘So, what do you do, Mr Malfoy?’ Linda unwisely asked during dessert.

He tried not to sigh.  They’d mostly left him alone, and he’d been hoping to escape unscathed.

‘My son and I run a…chemical supply business,’ he said, fumbling when he nearly said ‘potions.’

‘Well, that explains a lot,’ Sam said with a nod.

‘How do you know our Hermione?’ Stewart pressed, smiling at Hermione warmly.

_She’s not_ your _Hermione,_ Lucius thought venomously.  He couldn’t resist showing it in some way, and covered Hermione’s hand with his own, on the table in full view.  Hermione linked her fingers with his, seemingly without thinking about it, and Lucius smugly watched Stewart take that in, his expression darkening.

‘She and my son went to school together,’ he said coolly.

These Muggles would never understand.  She could never be _theirs_ , not truly, because she was a witch.  He and the rest of the wizarding world would always have most of her.  She had proved that when she hadn’t simply fled _with_ her parents, instead sending them away and opting to stay and fight herself.

Stewart sneered a little; it was not becoming.  He didn’t say anything, though, and the subject turned naturally to Sam’s work.  He was a solicitor, and Lucius found himself interested in spite of himself.

He was so interested, in fact, that it wasn’t until a half hour after dinner that he noticed that he, Sam and Linda were alone in the living room.  Hermione and Stewart were nowhere to be seen.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione had been very happy to see Stewart after so long--she hadn’t had many friends as a child, and it had been a little sad having to let those few go when she found out she was a witch.  It had eventually stopped hurting, particularly after she made some friends in the wizarding world, but a small part of her was still nostalgic for those simpler days.

However, it soon became apparent to her that Stewart wasn’t merely renewing old acquaintances.  She’d tried to extricate herself from the conversation several times when he said things that were just a little too… _intimate_ for her comfort, only to have him change the subject and look at her with big, hurt eyes.  She felt bad, so she stayed, but it was making her more and more uneasy.  She didn’t want to date Stewart.

At dinner, she’d been relieved beyond belief when Lucius felt the need for her contact again and touched her hand.  Linking fingers with him had implied to Stewart that they were together romantically, and fortunately it had made him back off.

She’d stepped out on the back porch for some air, and Stewart joined her not long after, and this time they talked without any forward remarks or long glances.  After a while, though, he brought up something not from their childhood, looking concerned.

‘Hermione, why are you with that guy?’

Her heart sped up.  ‘Lucius?’

‘Yeah, _Lucius_ ,’ he repeated slightly mockingly.  ‘He’s so old.  He said himself that you went to school with his kid.  It’s creepy.  Not to mention that he’s not exactly a nice person.  Why are you with him?’

She swallowed.  ‘He’s not old, and it’s not creepy.  Malfoy men take longer to mature than most,’ she joked weakly.  ‘If you’d met his son, you’d know what I mean.’

Stewart looked doubtful.  ‘Seriously, Hermione.  I hope you know what you’re doing.  You know my mum and dad are there for you if you need anything, right?  And me, too.’

He handed her his business card.  Hermione took it and smiled, shaking her head.

‘Trust me, Stewart, I know what I’m doing,’ she said wryly.  ‘Lucius may not seem that nice to you, but he’s never very comfortable around strangers.  Deep down, he’s a good man.’

‘Well, if you’re sure….’

She nodded firmly, and Stewart changed the subject back to memory lane.

‘Hermione!’

They turned, still giggling from some shared story.

Lucius was standing in the doorway, his arms folded.  He tapped the cuff on his wrist meaningfully and then held out his hand.

‘It’s time to go, Hermione,’ he said, and she couldn’t decipher his tone.

She was still grinning.  ‘Okay, Lucius, I’ll be right there.’

He shook his head and left.

‘I’d better go,’ she said, patting Stewart’s hand.

Stewart was staring after Lucius.  ‘Are you _sure_ he’s really a good person?’

She chuckled.  ‘Deep, _deep_ down, sometimes.’

He laughed and bade her goodbye.  She made her excuses to Linda and Sam, and followed Lucius out the front door, back into the night.  As soon as she found a secluded spot from which she could Apparate them home, she cast _Tempus_.  It was 7:49.

‘Hermione,’ Lucius said softly, looking uncertain.

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry if I interfered.’

She frowned.  ‘Interfered with what?’

He shifted uncomfortably.  ‘If you and that boy were….’

‘Me and Stewart?!’  She huffed out a laugh.  ‘I don’t think of him like that.  Besides, I could never be with a Muggle.  I couldn’t hide half of who I am like that.’

‘You shouldn’t have to,’ he agreed immediately.  ‘You should be proud of who you are.’  He hesitated.  ‘ _All_ of who you are.’

Hermione looked up in surprise.  She knew exactly what he was saying--and to hear it out of Lucius Malfoy’s mouth was nothing short of amazing.  She considered it a minor miracle, actually.

‘Really?’ she said hopefully.

This was more progress than she’d ever dared to hope for from him.  The corner of Lucius’s mouth curled up and he looked slightly embarrassed.

‘Really,’ he said, his voice very deep and low.

She looked away, but she couldn’t help a smile.  The tenderness she’d felt earlier was full strength now--she was full of affection for this strange, moody, beautiful human being.  She didn’t feel the cold, now.

‘Are you ready to go home?’ she asked when she was sure she had her voice and expression back under control.

Lucius shifted unhappily, and she could see the desolation he was trying to cover.  It made her heart ache.  She squeezed his hand supportively and he let out a breath.

‘No,’ he admitted in a shaky voice.  ‘But I suppose I have to, don’t I?’

Reluctantly, she nodded.  ‘It’s 7:56,’ she said quietly.

She could see his eyes shining in the streetlights.  He stepped back, looking up.  The moon was out, a barely-visible crescent in the sky.  She watched his throat move as he swallowed, his expression full of heartbroken longing.  She wouldn’t be surprised if he moved into a tent on his lawn when his house arrest ended.

He looked back down at her, his face a mask of resignation and sorrow, and stepped close again.

‘All right,’ he agreed softly.

She tightened her grip on his hand and Apparated them back to Malfoy Manor.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco was waiting for them in the sitting room when they arrived.  He looked very pleased with himself, so Lucius guessed that his Weasley hunt had gone well.  It only made Lucius feel even more tired, the weight that had suddenly gathered on his shoulders heavier than ever.

‘How was your day on the town?’ Draco asked pleasantly.

‘It was good,’ Hermione said bravely.

Lucius looked at Draco wearily.  ‘I owe her money.’

Draco’s brow furrowed.  ‘Did you lose a bet?’

Lucius just looked at him, and after a moment, Draco excused himself to go and get their money box.  He didn’t sit down, because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get back up again.  He felt another warm tingle as Hermione removed the glamour and offered her a weary smile.

She touched his arm, her brow wrinkled with concern.  ‘Are you going to be all right?’

He forced himself to nod, but it came out wobbly.  ‘Only seven more months,’ he said in choked and wavery voice.

‘I know,’ said Hermione quietly, her eyes filling with tears.  ‘You can make it, Lucius.’

‘I hope so,’ he whispered.

He didn’t feel like he could, right now.

She must have seen something in his expression, because she hugged him from the side, laying her head on his shoulder.

‘You _will_ make it, Lucius,’ she said, much more firmly this time.  ‘I’ll help you.’

His nod was firmer, too, and she pulled away as Draco returned.

‘Here,’ said Draco, still obviously confused.

Lucius counted out a pile of Galleons and handed them to Hermione.  She looked at him in surprise.

‘I _know_ we went over the Muggle money-Galleon exchange rate,’ she chided.  ‘This is way too much.’

He waved a dismissive hand.  ‘You told the class yourself that the rate changes almost daily.  What if it’s not worth as much tomorrow?’

Hermione smiled and shook her head.  ‘Have it your way.  Good night, Draco; good night, Lucius.’

She left.

Draco was staring at him expectantly.

Lucius could not handle this right now.

‘I’m going to bed,’ he said, forcing himself to move in that general direction.

‘But--’

‘Tomorrow, Draco.’

Draco frowned, but accepted that.  ‘Good night, Father.’

Lucius grunted in response and kept moving.  He barely had the energy to change before he crawled into bed, utterly wrung out.

He had the nightmare once, toward early morning, but Draco had apparently set up camp in his room, because he quickly woke him and soothed him back to sleep.


	11. The Day After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius has a setback, and Draco tries his best to help. Hermione and Ginny hang out, but Hermione has a bad feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Lucius, I'm back to being mean to him again. This is actually almost made of angst. However, there is some setup for some actual plot later in the chapter.  
> I hope you enjoy! Love to all the commenters, you continue to be made of awesome. :) Thank you to everyone for reading, as well!

The next morning, Lucius still felt tired and low, although a little less so than last night.  Breathing seemed to take extra effort, and he was a little unnerved by how very terrible he felt after how good he’d felt yesterday.  He decided it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to figure it out and let himself drift.  Draco entered shortly after he woke up, bearing a tray.

‘Father?’ he said cautiously.  ‘How are you feeling?’

Lucius sighed.  ‘Horrible.’

Draco set the tray on the nightstand and sat beside him, stroking Lucius’s hair back and fussing with the blankets.  Lucius sighed again and stared at the ceiling.

‘I think you got over-tired,’ Draco said lowly.  ‘Maybe you should rest today.’

Lucius shrugged one shoulder.  ‘Maybe,’ he mumbled.

Draco shot him another worried look and reached for the tray.

‘I brought you breakfast,’ he said with forced cheer.

Lucius turned his head aside and said nothing.  Draco watched him for a moment before standing, sighing with disappointment.

‘All right, but you need to eat sometime today.’

Lucius nodded minutely and closed his eyes.  He heard Draco quietly slip out, then his footsteps in the hallway.  He heaved another sigh and lay quietly.  If he slept, he slept; if not, it didn’t matter.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione got her calls made early and felt very accomplished.  Her tenants would be taken care of, so she didn’t need to worry about that anymore.  She cleaned her flat and finished up a few things she’d been putting off, and then Ginny called on her for lunch.

‘So?’ Hermione said with a grin when they’d settled down with the sandwiches Ginny had brought.  ‘I saw last night that Draco looked much better, and you look very pleased with yourself.  What happened?’

Ginny grinned devilishly.  ‘I got him to admit to being a horrible little worm.  I also got him to explain what he’d  _ really _ been trying to say when he offered in the first place.’

‘Which was?’

‘Apparently, he was really being sweet deep down,’ she said with a pout.  ‘He really wanted me to move into Malfoy Manor so we’d be together more often, but of course, being a Malfoy, he couldn’t just come out and  _ say _ that.  His really stupid way of asking me to move in with him was just his attempt to be cool and nonchalant about it.’

Hermione raised a brow.  ‘And instead he sounded like a--well,’ she hedged when Ginny glared.

Yes, they were officially back together, it seemed.

The redhead subsided with a satisfied nod.  ‘Yes, well, that’s all behind us.’

She fed a little scrap to Crookshanks.  ‘Are you moving in, then?’

Ginny snorted.  ‘Uh, no.  Malfoy Manor is okay to hang out in on Thursday nights, but I can’t imagine living there.  There’s no  _ colour _ !  It makes me wonder if Lucius and Draco are both colourblind.’

Hermione smirked.  ‘No--at least not completely, or they wouldn’t have objected so loudly to Ron’s Gryffindor sweater.’

‘Didn’t the insignia give it away?’

‘No, they were protesting before he even removed his cloak, and the cloak covered the Gryffindor patch.  Just the colours were enough.’  She poked at her coleslaw with her fork.  ‘Besides, I’m sure Draco would let you redecorate if you moved in.’

Ginny looked doubtful.  ‘ _ He _ might, but don’t you think Lucius would have some objections?’

She hesitated.  ‘Well, actually, I think Lucius has a “hands off” approach to you.  He’s trying to keep Draco happy, and arguing with him about you definitely does not make Draco happy.  Besides, I think Lucius is a little scared of you since you yelled at him the other day,’ she added with a smirk.

She nearly choked on her juice.  ‘Lucius Malfoy?  Scared of  _ me _ ?  Pah!  What kind of nonsense is that?  Are you on drugs?’

Hermione grinned.  ‘No, but think about it--he doesn’t have a wand right now, and you do, and Draco and I have both mentioned to Lucius on more than one occasion just how ferocious you can be when roused, particularly with a Bat-Bogey Hex.  You were definitely roused on Tuesday.  More to the point, I’ve never seen Lucius intimidated into speechlessness, and I’ve also never seen him take off like that when given an excuse to leave.’

Ginny looked quite pleased with herself.  ‘Well.  You may have a point about who’s in possession of a wand right now.  Also, Malfoys in particular don’t seem to like my Bat-Bogey Hex.’

‘They are a bit vain,’ Hermione agreed.

She snorted.  ‘More than a bit.  But speaking of Lucius, how did it go yesterday?’

She heaved a sigh.  ‘Just fine, right up until the end.’

Ginny cocked her head.  ‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, he got really upset when it was time to go back home,’ Hermione said uncomfortably.  ‘He’s not looking forward to seven more months of being cooped up.  He practically refused to go inside all day except to eat, and once in a shop he thought looked interesting, and that was only for a few minutes.’

Ginny frowned.  ‘I can’t say I blame him.  I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t go outside and get a little fresh air now and then.  Or what I’d do for a job, since my job is outside by definition.’

She smiled faintly in spite of herself.  ‘I just wish there was more I could do, you know?’

Ginny sighed and patted her arm.  ‘Hermione, I think you’ve done more than enough already.  I never would have thought of the schoolwork excuse to get him out of the house, and we know Draco didn’t, either, or he would’ve already been working on it.’

Hermione bit her lip, blinking rapidly as her eyes blurred.  ‘You didn’t see his face,’ she whispered.

‘I’ve seen Lucius’s face before, and since he always has the exact same expression--snobby disgust--I highly doubt it would’ve made a difference if I’d seen it last night,’ she said dryly.

Hermione glared at her, dropping the chip she was holding, which Crookshanks promptly cleaned up.  ‘Lucius has lots of different expressions.  Maybe if you didn’t go out of your way to annoy him, you’d get to see a few more of them.’

Ginny put her hands up in surrender.  ‘Whoa, whoa, all right,  _ geez _ .  I forgot about your little crush.’

‘This isn’t about my having a crush, it’s about Lucius being a human being,’ Hermione insisted fiercely.  ‘Okay, so he’s not always a very  _ nice _ human being, but nobody’s perfect, and he’s really trying, lately.’

‘Suuuure,’ said Ginny under her breath, crumpling her empty sandwich wrapper.  Then, more loudly, she said, ‘Why doesn’t he just open a window?’

She grimaced.  ‘The Ministry charmed them all shut, according to the paperwork about his probation.  They can be so vindictive.’  She sighed, frustrated.  ‘I’ve looked up how to charm a ceiling, like the Great Hall, but for one thing, it would take about twenty wizards working together, and for another, it just isn’t the same.  It’s about equal to looking out the window.’

‘True,’ Ginny agreed.

Hermione got up and threw away their empty wrappers, feeling more than a little depressed herself.

‘We need to take your mind off of him,’ Ginny declared.  ‘I’m going to look at flats this afternoon.  Come with me, or else.’

She chuckled in spite of herself.  ‘I haven’t got anything better to do, I guess….’

‘I’m overwhelmed with emotion.  I never knew how much you loved spending time with me,’ the younger girl teased.

Hermione laughed and went to get her cloak.  Maybe Ginny was right.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Father, get up,’ Draco said insistently.  ‘You’ve been in bed all morning.  It’s time for lunch.’

Lucius didn’t move.

Draco kicked the side of the bed.  ‘Up!’

‘I’m not a broom,’ Lucius grumbled, and continued to not move.

His son let out a very long, exasperated breath.  His hair was a wreck from his constantly running his hands through it.  He’d spent most of the morning sitting at Lucius’s desk, working on paperwork, even though Lucius had told him three times to go away and leave him alone.  When he refused, Lucius had turned on his side, facing away from Draco, and stubbornly pretended that he wasn’t there.

‘Father,’ Draco began again, his tone very stern.  ‘You need to eat.  If you don’t want to eat what the house elves have made, I’ll send out for something.  I just need you to eat something,  _ please _ .’

His eyes were burning.  ‘I’m not hungry.  Leave me alone.’

‘No!’

He sat up and glared at Draco.  ‘Why not?’

Draco folded his arms defensively and tried to glare back, but the worried crease between his brows gave him away.

‘Because you’re my father.  I care about you,’ he enunciated slowly, as to a child.  ‘If I didn’t care what happened to you, I would have gone with Mother to the Caribbean and left you here to face the Wizengamot alone, if you didn’t drink yourself to death first.  But since I  _ do _ care, and I’m here, I’m not going to stand by and watch you starve yourself to death, either.’

He scowled, fiddling with the blankets, and dropped his gaze.  ‘I’m not starving myself, I just don’t eat when I’m not hungry, and I’m not hungry right now.’

‘You’re never hungry,’ Draco shot back accusingly.

‘That’s not true!’

Draco ground his teeth.  ‘No, you’re right.  You’re only hungry when  _ Hermione _ is here.’

Lucius frowned.  ‘Why do you say it like that?’

‘No reason,’ he said, but his tone was still bitter, his eyes hard.  ‘You have until the count of five to get out of that bed on your own, or I’m dragging you out.’

Lucius stared at him, aghast.  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

His smirk was very darkly amused, his eyes glittering.  ‘One.’

‘You’re evil,’ Lucius complained.  ‘Why do you have to be so mean?’

‘Two.’

He threw back the blankets and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet dangling.  Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness hit him.  He breathed in sharply, putting a hand to his head.

Draco reached out and gripped his arm.  ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, just dizzy.’

He snorted.  ‘That’s what you get for not eating.  Did you even eat anything yesterday?’

‘Yes,’ Lucius said defensively, recovering from the dizzy spell enough to glare at him.  ‘I had breakfast with you, then I had breakfast with Hermione, and then I had a huge lunch, and then I had a little dinner.’

‘But you haven’t had anything to eat or drink since then,’ Draco pointed out with a trace of smugness mixed in with his worry.  ‘It’s past noon.  You need to eat.’

Lucius’s shoulders slumped.  He felt very miserable and unfairly put-upon.  He propped his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his burning eyes.

‘But I’m not  _ hungry _ ,’ he whined quietly.

Draco sighed.  ‘Just eat a little toast or something, and have a glass of water.  Please?  For me?’

He pouted.  That was one request he couldn’t deny.  He nodded once and pushed himself to his feet.

‘Thank you,’ Draco said, nearly breathless with relief.

Draco didn’t force him to dress or anything, and when they were in the dining room, he talked pleasantly of the latest news, only occasionally nudging Lucius to eat.  Lucius nibbled reluctantly, but in the end, he managed to down two pieces of toast and half an apple before his stomach clenched unhappily.

‘I don’t want anymore,’ he said pitifully when Draco pushed the other half of the apple toward him.

Draco sighed, but Lucius looked at him with big, sorrowful eyes, and finally he relented.

‘Well, at least you ate a little,’ he conceded.  ‘Are you getting sick and just not telling me?’

‘No.’  At least, he didn’t think he was sick.  He just didn’t want to eat, or talk, or move.  He wanted to lie in bed and not think about anything.  A part of Lucius was alarmed by this, because it wasn’t exactly normal behaviour for him, but the rest of him was too tired to care, and it rather firmly told that part to shove off.

‘Okay,’ said Draco doubtfully.  Then he forced a smile.  ‘So what should we do for the rest of the afternoon?’

Lucius hunched a little, wrapping his arms around himself.  He felt very cold.

‘I want to go back to my room,’ he said in a small voice.

Draco’s false smile immediately collapsed.  He watched Lucius shiver and seemed to come to a decision.  Lucius flinched automatically, sucking in a sharp breath, when Draco’s wand was levelled at him, but all that happened was a general health spell, and the wand was put away.  Lucius didn’t relax at all until it was out of sight again.

‘You don’t have a fever,’ Draco said with a frown.  ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong.’

Lucius smiled weakly.  ‘Nothing is wrong.  I’m just tired.’

He was not very convincing, and he knew it.  Draco continued to study him closely, making him feel rather like a bug under a magnifying glass.

‘All right,’ he finally murmured.  ‘You can go to your room, but I’m coming with you.  I want to keep an eye on you.’

Lucius took what he could get.  He made toward the bed as soon as he was back in his room, but Draco steered him away from it.

‘I don’t think so, not after how hard I worked to get you  _ out _ of it,’ he said scornfully, and refused to back down.

In the end, Lucius curled up in the window seat, staring out at the gardens longingly.  It was a grey, drizzly day, but he still wanted it, wanted it with every fibre of his being.  Draco wrapped a blanket around him and went back to Lucius’s desk to continue working.  Lucius could feel his eyes on him from time to time, but otherwise Draco let him alone.  He felt absurdly grateful for the reprieve.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

By the end of the afternoon, Ginny had chosen three different flats that she really, really liked.  Hermione had successfully convinced her that a fourth was inappropriate to her needs, but the remaining three were both beautiful and perfect for Ginny’s current needs.  They returned to Hermione’s flat, where she began preparing a dinner big enough for four.

‘Wow, that’s a lot of food,’ Ginny observed.

Hermione smiled.  ‘You said you wanted Draco’s opinion, so I thought we’d just take dinner over to the Malfoys and eat with them, and you can talk to Draco.’

Ginny raised her brows.  ‘And  _ you _ can check up on Lucius.’

Her cheeks warmed.  ‘That  _ is _ a perk.’

She didn’t know why, but she’d had a nagging feeling all day that something wasn’t right, a tug in her stomach toward a particular location in Wiltshire.  Ginny had told her it was probably just because of how Lucius had seemed the night before, and she was assuming that he would’ve got worse today, rather than better from a night’s sleep, and that she was overreacting and being silly.  Hermione was not convinced.

‘You know,’ Ginny began tentatively, ‘if you’re trying to not have more than teacher-student feelings toward him, you’ve already failed.  And if you’re trying not to have more than friendship feelings, I think you need to be careful.  He’s on your mind all the time.  I may not be able to read Lucius’s expressions, but I can read yours--you thought about nothing but him all day.’

Hermione drew a slow breath, pausing in her preparations.  ‘I know.  I’m really trying, but I’m just so worried about him.  I’m trying not to let it be anything more than a friend worrying about another friend.’

She nodded slowly.  ‘And that’s okay.  Just be careful.  I don’t want you to lose your job, or any of those other horrible things you mentioned.  Even Lucius going to Azkaban.’

Hermione smiled.  ‘Thanks.’

After the meal was complete, they Flooed through to Malfoy Manor.  It was very quiet.

‘Draco!  Draco, I’m here!’ Ginny called.

They left the entrance hall, headed toward the sitting room, but Draco came thundering down the stairs.  Hermione shook her head, grinning, and looked away as the lovebirds greeted each other enthusiastically.

‘I didn’t know you were coming over today,’ he said brightly when they’d detached themselves.  ‘What a pleasant surprise!’

‘It was Hermione’s idea,’ Ginny explained, gesturing toward the casserole dish in Hermione’s arms.  ‘I can’t decide between three different flats, so she thought we could bring dinner, and you and I could discuss it.’

Draco’s face fell slightly.  ‘That’s a great idea.  Thank you, Hermione.’

‘You don’t look very pleased,’ Hermione said pointedly.

He sighed.  ‘Father is really bad today,’ he admitted, glancing up the stairs.  ‘I was actually going to ask you to come over, if I couldn’t get him to eat any dinner.  I couldn’t get him to eat breakfast, and at lunch all I convinced him to eat was a couple pieces of toast and half an apple.  I barely got him out of bed.  I had to resort to threats.’

Ginny glanced at Hermione a little guiltily.  Clearly, her gut feeling had been correct.

Hermione frowned.  ‘Where is he now?’

‘In his room.  I banned him from crawling straight back into bed, so he’s just sitting in the window.’

Hermione’s heart clenched.  ‘Why don’t you and Ginny eat down here so you can have a break?  I’ll take Lucius up some and see if I can’t tempt him.’

‘I don’t see why that would be a problem,’ Draco said with a shrug.  ‘He loves your food.’

She was doubtful this time.  ‘Usually.  Today might be different.  We’ll see.’

They executed Hermione’s plan.  She put a plate for herself and a plate for Lucius on a tray, along with a cup of tea for each of them, and carefully crept up the stairs.  She was afraid she wouldn’t remember which door was his, but fortunately, Draco had left it open in his rush to greet Ginny.

Lucius hadn’t noticed her arrival.  He was exactly where Draco had said he was, sitting in the window seat, staring outside.  He was hugging his knees, his chin propped on one of them.  There was a blanket wrapped around him, but his bare toes were peeking out.  She could see that Lucius hadn’t bothered to get out of his pyjamas today, or even brush his hair.  He was pale and still, the only movements his breathing and the occasional long, slow blink.  As she stepped closer, she was shocked to realise that his cheeks had wet streaks on them.

This wasn’t just bad, this was really,  _ really _ bad.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly.

He jumped, quickly wiping his cheeks and looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

‘Hermione,’ he breathed.  ‘You startled me.’

She grimaced.  ‘Sorry.  I need a little company--Draco and Ginny are discussing the flats she looked at today.  I don’t blame you if you’re sick of me, but do you mind?’

‘No, not at all,’ he said quickly, gesturing at the spot next to him.

She settled in while he continued to try to surreptitiously remove the traces of his tears, sniffling quietly.  She pretended not to notice.

‘Coincidentally, I brought dinner,’ she said cheerfully, holding out one of the plates for him.

He took it with a tremulous smile.  ‘Thank you.’

Lucius mostly poked at it, his eyes straying back toward the window, but a bite did make its way into his mouth from time to time.  Hermione tried a couple of different topics, but it soon became apparent that Lucius was not up for conversation, so she lapsed back into silence.  Her heart ached for him, but she couldn’t think of any way to help, not right at this moment.  She fully intended on seeing what she could do to improve his situation for the future, but right here, next to him, she had no plan.

After a moment, she kicked off her shoes and swung her legs up, covering his bare toes with her socked feet.  He looked up in surprise, but she just smiled and kept eating, and after a moment he went back to looking out the window, and this time she thought that maybe some of the lines had smoothed from his face, just a hint of the weariness alleviated.

It wasn’t much, but she would take it.

Eventually, Lucius finished his food.  Hermione didn’t make a big deal of it, just smiling and taking his empty plate, exchanging it for the cup of tea.  She’d had to cast a warming charm on it, but it was worth it, since his slow, distracted eating had resulted in him actually eating a full serving.  She was determined, now, to find excuses to come and bring him food.  The utter disinterest in food seemed to stem from his depression, and whether it was her cooking or her presence or both, it seemed to dispel it, at least a little.

He wrapped both hands around the cup, evidently looking for warmth.  Hermione had noted that, despite the blanket, Lucius still shivered from time to time.  She agreed that sitting by the window was a bit chilly, but he seemed to feel the cold more keenly, and she wondered why.  She wasn’t brave enough to ask, though, so she wandlessly whispered another warming charm in the general direction of his blanket instead.

After a few seconds, he pulled the blanket tighter around him and shot her an unreadable glance.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

She shrugged, sipping her tea, and casually looked out the window.  ‘You’re welcome.  It is a bit chilly in here, isn’t it?’

He grunted an agreement.

There were a lot of things that she was beginning to wonder about Lucius, actually.  From what she could recall, he’d been a very powerful wizard, and Draco had had no qualms about bragging about his abilities prior to his imprisonment.  She didn’t know how much of younger-Draco’s boasting could actually be believed, but according to him, Lucius had rarely used his wand outside of battle, easily and casually casting wandless, nonverbal spells as a matter of course.  A wizard who had his wand confiscated but knew how to cast wandlessly was still someone to be reckoned with, if slightly handicapped, and the Ministry had not found a way to control the use of wandless magic (or at least not a politically-acceptable way that they could justify to the populace).

In other words, if Draco had been telling the truth and Lucius had, in fact, been able to cast wandlessly before, there was no reason he shouldn’t have been able to now--but he couldn’t.  She was absolutely certain that he would have used such an ability if he could have, and he never had.  She was more inclined to believe the younger-Draco’s boasting because the present, more mature Draco had once offhandedly mentioned to her that his father couldn’t even do a simple levitation spell or cast  _ Alohomora _ without a wand anymore, and the word ‘anymore’ implied that he’d been able to do it before.  The magic was still there, but he couldn’t access it without a wand.  Dementors were uninterested in a wizard’s magic, so that wasn’t the problem.

Then there were the gaps in his memory.  Now that she knew they existed, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder just how extensive they were.  He’d only been in Azkaban for a year, but unlike some wizards who came out a little more stable, Lucius had no mental shielding at all, let alone being an actual Occlumens.  Sometimes it was only her own Occlumency shields that kept her from knowing Lucius’s surface thoughts when they met eyes, particularly if he was thinking ‘loudly,’ so to speak.  Wizards who’d practiced some level of Occlumency always came out of Azkaban better off than those who hadn’t, but as far as she knew, no one had actually bothered to find out precisely what that meant.  How much of his life was Lucius actually missing?

She also had to wonder if a large part of his depression wasn’t due to those missing memories, rather than  _ only _ because of his house arrest and general powerlessness, as she’d assumed when Draco first brought Lucius’s problems to her attention.  Humans were naturally predisposed to remember bad things easier than they remembered good things, but what happened when the ratio of good-to-bad memories suddenly, drastically shifted?  For most people, insanity ensued, at least in the cases of those people who’d been imprisoned in Azkaban for a lot longer than Lucius.  Sirius had only been as mentally stable as he had after twelve years because of his Animagus form providing him some relief, and because she suspected he’d had some rudimentary mental shielding of his own even in human form.

She thought in Lucius she was seeing the result when not  _ all _ of the happiness and good thoughts had been drained, just as she had with Sirius.  Lucius and Sirius had both been depressed, although they showed it in different ways.  The main difference seemed to be that Sirius had had a purpose, an evil to fight to give his life meaning, even though he was cooped up in Grimmauld Place.  Lucius had no overarching purpose, and very little to look forward to that he could see, and so he wallowed.  She didn’t think he meant to, but he had no external impetus to  _ make _ him get out of bed when he was too depressed to move.

It was especially concerning because it seemed to be getting worse.  She’d been so relieved to see him happy that she hadn’t been overly concerned by his manic state over the past week, but now, she had to wonder if it hadn’t also been a sign that something was off-kilter.  Now came the crash, and Lucius had crashed harder than ever.  She’d never, never seen him cry, and hadn’t ever expected to.  She would have thought that he would get  _ better _ over time, not worse, and she felt somewhat at a loss.

‘What are you thinking about?’

Lucius’s voice was very soft and timid.  It didn’t sound like him.

Hermione smiled at him.  ‘You.  Naturally.’

The corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes brightened a little.  ‘Naturally,’ he echoed sardonically, sounding a bit more like himself.  ‘What about me, in particular?’

She couldn’t tell him the truth, not in his current, fragile state.  He wouldn’t take it well that she was wondering what was wrong with him.  His toes wiggled under the balls of her feet, and she bit back a smile at his impatience.

‘Your taste in décor, mostly,’ she said, and only felt a little guilty because she and Ginny had, in fact, discussed it earlier.  ‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you there are colours besides black and white?’

He sniffed, looking down his nose at her.  ‘Black and white are classic and elegant.’

‘And also funereal,’ she said dryly.  ‘A little blue trim on the drapes or some green pillows on the sofa or something wouldn’t be too much.’

He rolled his eyes at her.  ‘I shall take that into consideration the next time I redecorate.’

Despite his sarcastic tone, he looked much better already.  Hermione smiled, feeling a little relieved now that this bout seemed to be letting up.  He smiled back, and it wasn’t so weak or tremulous this time.

The moment was broken by voices in the hallway--Ginny and Draco headed their way.  Hermione swung her legs back to the floor and started putting her shoes back on.

‘I’m telling you, the second bedroom is absolutely essential,’ Ginny was chattering as they entered.  ‘Hermione, tell him!  Hello, Lucius, you look like shit.’

Hermione shot her a horrified glance, but Lucius only snorted.

‘Thank you, Miss Weasley, it’s lovely to see you again, too,’ he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She sputtered for a moment before finding her voice.  ‘Yes, Draco, the second bedroom is very, very important.  The world will literally end if Ginny doesn’t have a two-bedroom flat.’

Draco grinned.

‘Thanks, that’s very helpful, Hermione,’ Ginny snapped, but she wasn’t really angry.  ‘Are you ready to go yet?’

‘I will be in a moment, go away,’ she said, waving a hand as she struggled with the collapsing back of her trainer.

Ginny rolled her eyes.  ‘Okay, fine.  Bye, Lucius!’

He didn’t bother to respond, as she was already gone, dragging a bemused Draco after her.

‘That’s my future daughter-in-law,’ he mused aloud, sighing.

Hermione straightened and grinned at him.  ‘It won’t be that bad.  With any luck, she’ll refuse to live in Malfoy Manor on principle, and you’ll only see her on holidays.’

‘One can only hope.’

‘And even if she does move in, I imagine you’ll get used to her.’

Lucius shot her a wry glance.  ‘If I ever “get used” to any of the Weasleys, you have my permission to kill me and burn my body, as I’ve obviously become the victim of a possession.’

Hermione giggled.  ‘I thought it was cutting off your head and burning your heart for possession?’

‘No, that’s vampirism.’

She laughed, and Lucius’s eyes gleamed.  She couldn’t resist and reached out to gently squeeze his knee.  His eyes tracked her hand and then met hers again, and he almost looked serene again, as he had in Kensington Gardens.

‘I have to go,’ she said regretfully.  ‘Do you mind if I drop by again tomorrow?’

‘You may drop in any time you please,’ he said, very deep and soft, sounding completely normal again.  ‘I’m always here, and I could use the company.’

Something dark shifted behind Lucius’s eyes when he said that last, turning them almost green for a moment, and Hermione made a mental picture of it to try to figure out what it was.  In the next instant, it was gone.

She said goodbye to both Malfoys and left.  Ginny bothered her for a little while longer once she got home, but then she headed back to the Burrow to admit to her mother what she’d been doing all day.  Hermione did not envy her at all.

It wasn’t until Hermione was settled down in her own bed, Crookshanks snuggled up to her, that she realised that what she’d seen before was fear, stronger than she’d ever seen it in Lucius’s eyes.

He was afraid of being alone.  Except she didn’t think ‘afraid’ was quite a strong enough word.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘May I go to bed  _ now _ ?’ Lucius pleaded for the eighth time that night.

He’d asked right after Hermione and Ginny left, but Draco had pointed out that it was only seven-thirty and refused.  Then he’d asked again at eight, eight-thirty, nine, nine-thirty, ten, and ten-thirty, and Draco had still refused each time, getting progressively more annoyed.  It was now a little after eleven, and Lucius was getting actively sleepy now, rubbing his eyes to stay awake.

Draco glanced at the time.  ‘All right, but tomorrow you’re getting up and getting dressed!  I can’t be here all day to persuade you to get up.’

‘Okay,’ Lucius agreed around a yawn, gratefully crawling back into the covers.

To his surprise, Draco came over and tucked him in, fussing with the quilt.  Lucius was too tired to object, but he shot Draco a very puzzled look, which Draco ignored.

‘I’m leaving the door unlocked, in case you have nightmares again,’ he said softly.

Lucius shivered at the reminder.  ‘Okay.’

Draco hovered for a moment longer before finally leaving, extinguishing the candles as he went.  The door clicked shut, and despite Lucius’s earlier sleepiness, now he was too afraid to sleep.  The dark seemed to close in around him, suffocating.  He didn’t want to go to sleep.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he told himself out loud, just to hear something in the silence.  ‘I’m a grown man.  I’m not afraid of the dark.’

He was shaking too much to believe himself.  He was too proud to light a candle to sleep by, though, so he laid awake, trying to convince himself that it was safe to sleep.  He didn’t believe that, either.

Exhaustion eventually forced his eyes shut, and the nightmare returned with a vengeance, only this time, the water wasn’t rising fast enough for him to drown himself to escape being crushed or having his soul sucked out.  He did not want to die either of those ways, but as always, there was no way out, and the walls and the Dementor both got closer and closer.

He woke Draco with his terrified screams, and when Draco shook him awake, he was still too terrified to reason with.  He launched himself at Draco, clutching at him desperately as soon as he realised there was someone beside him.  The seeping cold feeling didn’t leave him.

‘I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die, help me, please,’ he sobbed brokenly into Draco’s bicep, trembling violently.

‘Shhhh, Father, you’re not going to die,’ Draco tried to soothe him, petting his hair and rocking him.  ‘You’re here, at home with me, and I won’t let anything hurt you.’

Lucius would not be soothed; he was irrational with fear and exhaustion, and a part of him was convinced he was still in his cell, that Draco was an illusion, that at any moment the Dementor would descend.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he wept.  ‘I won’t fail again, I promise, please help me….’

Draco held him tighter.  ‘Voldemort is dead, Father, he’s not here.’

Lucius flinched at the name, but otherwise did not respond.  His breathing was rapid and shallow as he teetered on the edge of hyperventilation.

‘I’ll do better, I will, please, I don’t want to die,’ he whimpered, burrowing further into Draco’s shirt.  ‘Please….’

‘ Accio Dreamless Sleep.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please….’

Lucius felt Draco’s fingers under his chin and obediently tilted his head up.  Draco’s fingers were warm.  That realisation finally made it register that it actually was Draco with him, not the Dark Lord or a Dementor, and he slowly relaxed, his shaking worsening as the tension leaked out of his frame.

‘Drink this, Father,’ Draco said lowly, holding a vial to his lips.

He obeyed, but it tasted awful.  ‘Yuck.’

Draco smiled faintly.  ‘I know, but it will help you sleep.’

Lucius’s lower lip quivered.  ‘I don’t want to sleep.’

‘You need to, and I promise, you won’t have bad dreams this time.’

He believed Draco.  Sniffling, he burrowed his head back into Draco’s shirt and waited.  Sure enough, sleep slowly washed over him, tugging him down.  He whimpered, and felt Draco stroke the back of his head, and then he was asleep.


	12. Target Acquired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius recovers, and sets his sights on several goals. Hermione discovers something that invokes her righteous indignation, and Draco gladly teams up with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some plot-type stuff! Hermione has questions, and as we all know, she will not stop until she has answers. In other words, now we're getting somewhere. Enjoy!

His mouth tasted like he’d licked a public restroom floor, and his eyes felt like they’d been glued shut.  He wasn’t tired, though, so he supposed that was a plus.  With an effort, he forced his eyes open and stiffly moved to sit up, looking around blearily.

It was late morning, if the level of light was any indication, and Lucius took an unsteady breath as he realised he’d slept past when Draco left for work-- _ way _ past.  He’d said last night that he would get up today, and that meant getting up when Draco got up.  Trembling slightly, he moved to get up, and that was when he noticed the note on his nightstand.

_ ‘ Father--you probably don’t remember, but I gave you Dreamless Sleep last night, so you won’t be waking up until well after I leave.  Please get up and get dressed when you  do wake up, I don’t want to come home and find you still in bed.  Love, Draco ’ _

The anxiety faded.  Draco wasn’t angry with him.  All he had to do was get up and get dressed--he could do that.  Actually, a bath sounded good.

Shakily, Lucius stood and started his day.  Something nagged at the back of his mind, and he felt oddly vulnerable and exposed, but he tried the best he could to ignore it.  He did not move around with his usual confidence, but there was no one there to notice if he faltered every now and again.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione had only one morning class on Mondays, so she decided to spend the extra time at home, making a steak and kidney pie for her and Lucius, and doing a little research.  She’d collected a backlog of  _ Daily Prophets _ for historical purposes (as a record of their bad reporting, mostly), and it proved useful now.  All the way back to June ’96--he was on the front page.

At the time, Hermione had been recovering from her injury, and had paid very little attention to the fallout, other than trying to be there for Harry.  She’d skimmed the article at the time and moved on.  Now she studied it, and the picture that came with it, closely.  The article was mostly rubbish, going on about how shocking it was that seemingly upstanding members of the community could secretly be Death Eaters and how one had to be wary of everyone, blah blah blah.  There were very little details about what it was actually supposed to be about--Lucius’s arrest.  It noted his prior accomplishments, his claims of having been under the Imperius Curse before, the fact that he had a wife and son, and gave credit to the arresting Auror, Hildebrand Pickett, although the fact that Lucius had been unconscious at the time of his arrest made that rather less of an accomplishment, in Hermione’s opinion.  Nothing else.

She turned to the picture, his arrest photo.  They hadn’t wasted any time shoving him into prison garb.  He was on his knees, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he was injured or because the chains binding his wrists weren’t long enough.  He’d been put in a neck brace, so there was at least one injury.  One arm was in a sling, and one wrist was bound.

_ Wait…. _

She looked closer, frowning.  Those weren’t actual bandages--they were rags.  The sling was just a strip of cloth.  The neck brace looked old, and it didn’t appear to fit right, like it was meant for someone else.

The Lucius in the photo stared back at her with mingled defiance and disdain, but she knew him well enough now to see that there was pain, also, in the way he held himself.  There was no colour in the photo, but she would swear his eyes were shadowed with it, too.

And there was something about the way he held his mouth, although she couldn’t quite tell if it was because of the ill-fitting neck brace or if it was because there was a swelling on one side, half-hidden by his hair….

She put the old  _ Prophets _ back except that copy and grabbed her pie and cloak.  She had a stop to make.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco looked up with annoyance that immediately transformed into relief when she barged into his office, shutting the door firmly behind her.

‘Hermione--I’m glad you’re here.  I was going to stop by after work today, but this is even better.’  He noticed the pie plate.  ‘Is that for Father?’

‘Yes, I’m bringing him lunch,’ she said, sitting down and trying to control her indignation.  It wasn’t aimed at him, after all.  ‘Why are you glad I’m here?  What’s happened?’

‘Father had the worst night ever,’ Draco moaned, rubbing his forehead.

She listened, horrified, as he described Lucius’s reaction to his nightmare.

‘He thought Voldemort was there?  In the room with him?’ she demanded when Draco had finished, chilled at the very thought.

Draco looked miserable.  ‘I think so.  He kept saying he was sorry, and once he said he wouldn’t fail again.  It’s the only conclusion I can draw.  It took him a while to realise I was actually me.’

Hermione felt faint.  ‘How did you get him back to sleep after  _ that _ ?  He must have been terrified….’

‘He was,’ Draco agreed, his voice choked with emotion.  ‘I made him drink a dose of Dreamless Sleep.  It probably wasn’t a very good idea, but I didn’t know what else to do.  You should have heard him  _ screaming _ ….’

He covered his face with his hands.  Hermione didn’t know how  _ she _ was going to manage to eat lunch after this, her stomach was so knotted up.

‘I can’t get the screams out of my head, it’s like they’re imprinted on my brain,’ he said tightly.

She had a burning desire to never, ever hear Lucius Malfoy screaming.

‘I’ll stop in before I head back to Hogwarts, let you know how he’s doing,’ she said lowly.

He removed his hands from his face and gave her a stiff but grateful nod.  ‘I assume you had your own reason for stopping in?’

‘Yes.’  She grimly placed the old  _ Prophet _ on his desk.  ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’

Draco glanced at it and snorted.  ‘Besides everything?’

‘Yes.’

He peered at it again, more critically this time.  ‘I don’t know, what’s wrong with it?’

‘Last time I checked, St Mungo’s doesn’t use rags to bind up people’s wounds,’ she said in a deliberately light tone.

He snatched up the paper and looked at it even more closely.  She could see the moment he saw it, too; a very ugly expression of rage twisted his face, his pale features rapidly turning red.

‘Before you go marching off to harangue everyone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, we need to confirm,’ she said sternly.  ‘I need you to get in touch with St Mungo’s, get any medical records they have on Lucius.  If there aren’t any from the summer of ’96, then we’ll know for sure that the arresting Auror did not follow protocol and take his  _ unconscious _ charge to St Mungo’s for treatment before transporting him to the Ministry’s holding cells; the Aurors guarding him in the cells did not take him for treatment or contact a healer, and transported him straight to Azkaban without any treatment; and we’ll know that after he was in Azkaban, the few human guards did not seek treatment for him.  But we need to confirm it  _ first _ before we can get the records of his imprisonment.  They won’t just hand them over without any suspicion of wrongdoing.’

Draco nodded tightly, only fractionally calming.  ‘I’ll get in touch with St Mungo’s right away, see what I can find out.’

Hermione nodded back, grim but determined.  ‘Good.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had decided to do something productive with his time and had made a few Floo calls regarding Lovegood.  That seemed to be in motion, so after that, he’d gone to the library to try to work on his final project, writing down questions that he could remember occurring to him while wandering around Muggle London.  Even the memory of being out in the sun had lifted his spirits a little, making it easier to concentrate and not give in to the temptation to go lie down somewhere and not move for the rest of the day.

Draco wouldn’t like it very much if he did that, which was the other reason he resisted temptation.  There was a nervous part of him that still anticipated Draco being upset with him when he returned, no matter how much he tried to calm himself by re-reading Draco’s note.  He’d even signed it ‘Love,’ which he never did, and why would he do that if he was upset?  The nervous part countered that he never did that, so obviously he was upset.

He tensed when he heard footsteps in the hall, but immediately relaxed when a voice called out.

‘Lucius?  Are you asleep somewhere and I’m going to get horribly lost wandering around your gigantic house for nothing?’ Hermione called, sounding both annoyed and amused.

Apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d called out.

‘I’m in here,’ Lucius called back, and Hermione’s head poked inside.

‘Oh!  Hi!  Hungry?  I wanted some real food instead of eating out, and I’ve got a little extra time to cook on Mondays, so here I am,’ she said cheerfully.

There was a slight strain, though, in her expression.  He couldn’t identify what it was, but since she was trying so hard to cover it, he assumed it was probably the stress of dealing with horrible teenagers.

‘I could eat,’ he said, and put his quill down.

She smiled brightly.  ‘Great!’

He followed her to the dining room, wondering why she’d needed to come eat with  _ him _ just because she wanted to eat real food.  If he asked, though, she might leave, and then he’d be alone again, and he couldn’t bear that.  When he was alone, it was harder to fight off the darkness.  Besides, she had asked if she could stop in today, and she hadn’t specified when.

‘I’m working on my final project question,’ he said while she served.

‘That’s fantastic!  Any ideas you’re particularly liking so far?’

He hesitated.  She might get angry.  ‘Homeless people.’

Hermione raised a brow at him.  ‘Homeless people?  That’s a pretty broad topic, don’t you think?’

Lucius shrugged uncomfortably.  ‘Not if I stick to the basics.  Most pure-blood children will be like me--they won’t even know what that means.  In the Wizarding world, even if a wizard  _ was _ homeless, whether by choice or not, you would never know it, because a wizard can simply use cleaning charms on themselves and their clothes, and we have the means to get food and shelter if we wish, even if the means may sometimes be somewhat…unsavoury.’

She studied him for a moment.  ‘Well, it does sound like a solid idea for a topic.  There would be enough material for a paper and a presentation.’  She shrugged.  ‘You can use it if you like; I guarantee that no one else has come up with that.’

He nodded, relieved.  ‘We’ll see.  If I don’t come up with anything else I like more.’

They ate quietly for the most part, although she did tell him about her frustrations with her students that morning (as he’d suspected).  His stomach allowed it, actually feeling a little hungry once he smelled and tasted the pie.  Hermione seemed less enthused about her own cooking, picking at her food more than eating it.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked when he’d polished off two pieces and she’d barely eaten one.

‘Hmm?  Oh, nothing.  Just thinking about something.’

‘Not me, this time, I hope,’ he said teasingly.  ‘Since this time you look mad.’

Hermione smiled.  ‘No, not you, this time.  And I am mad about it,’ she admitted.

He tilted his head.  ‘What’s happened?’

She waved her fork.  ‘Oh, nothing that would interest you.  I just found out about an injustice that needs to be corrected, that’s all.’

‘A house elf in dire circumstances?’

That got a laugh out of her.  ‘No.  Don’t worry about it, Lucius.’

He subsided, feeling a little conflicted--pleased that he’d made her laugh when she was obviously not in the best of moods, but a little hurt and ashamed that she didn’t feel she could tell him about her latest crusade.  It probably  _ was _ about a house elf being abused or something, and since he’d teased her, she thought he’d make fun of her for it.  Which meant, Lucius realised with a sinking feeling, that he might have to…start…being  _ nice _ …to house elves.

_ Ugh . _

‘I’ve got to go, do you want the rest of this?’

_ Yes!  _  ‘Yes, please!’

She grinned.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Anything?’

Draco looked supremely annoyed, but his voice was remarkably controlled.  ‘They tell me it will take two to three weeks to make sure all the records are compiled.  Apparently, this is because house calls and Ministry calls are filed separately from St Mungo’s hospitalisation and emergency records, with each individual healer having their own filing system.’

Hermione sighed.  ‘At least you got the process started.’

He sat back, fidgeting with his quill.  ‘How is he?’

She grimaced.  The last time she recalled Lucius looking this bad, Voldemort had been living under his roof.  He displayed the same shaky lack of confidence, the same vulnerable instability.  He’d obviously been making a serious effort to pull himself back together again, tugging at her heartstrings and fuelling her rage toward those idiot Aurors.

‘Fragile,’ she said honestly.  ‘Nervous.  That nightmare really shook him up.  But he’s trying--he’s working on ideas for his final project.’

Draco frowned anxiously.  ‘Is he dressed?  Did you get him to eat?’

She chuckled.  ‘Yes, he’s dressed.  I think he might have even bathed and shaved.  I told you, he’s trying.  And yes, he ate a couple pieces of pie, and kept the rest for later when I had to leave.’

He breathed out slowly, relief relaxing his tight expression.  ‘Good.  Will you bring dinner tonight?  Please?  I don’t mean to monopolise all of your time, but--’

‘I’d be happy to,’ she cut him off, waving her hand to dismiss it physically, too.  ‘If we’re going to help him get back on his feet, he needs to be well fed.  Apparently, he’ll only eat what I make, and it’s the least I can do.’

He smiled faintly.  ‘You’ve already done so much, I just feel like we’re abusing your good nature.’

Hermione looked at him sternly, raising a brow.  ‘You’re my friend.  Lucius is my friend.  This is what friends do--we help each other, with no expectation of payment or reciprocation.’

‘Then you’re the best friend ever,’ he said sincerely.

She smiled and opened the door.  ‘I have to go.  I have class.  I’ll see you tonight.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

After Hermione left, Lucius dedicated a solid hour or so to continuing the work on his final project, but finally he was too cold to sit at a desk anymore.  He sat as close to the fireplace in the library as he dared, wrapped in a blanket, and kept an eye on the time.  He needed to make sure to get up before Draco got home, so he could look busy and productive.

Unfortunately, being warm made him feel drowsy, and it was almost time for him to get up and look busy when he dozed off, leaning back against the armchair behind him.  He only realised he’d nodded off when he woke to a tickling sensation on his nose.  He sneezed and looked up to see Draco crouching beside him, smiling slightly and holding a quill.

‘Gotcha,’ he teased gently.

Lucius straightened immediately, his heart pounding as anxiety washed away all logical thought.

‘I got up and did things, I wasn’t sleeping the whole day, I promise,’ he blurted in a rush, and for some stupid reason his eyes were welling.

Draco sighed.  ‘I know, Father, I can see that you’re dressed, and I’ve had a look at your notes for your final project.  You’ll be done before you know it,’ he added with a smile.

He wasn’t quite reassured.  ‘You’re not angry?’ he asked timidly, hopefully.

Draco’s expression was pained.  ‘No, I’m not angry.  After you had such a rough night, I half expected you’d need a nap or a rest.  I just didn’t want you to lie in bed and not move all day, that’s all.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘So I see.’

Lucius let out a ragged breath and the stupid, weak tears receded as relief replaced anxiety.  Draco watched him for a moment, his lips set in a thin line and his brow furrowed.  The silence stretched, and Lucius resisted the urge to squirm.

‘I’m still not going to leave you, Father,’ he said softly.  ‘I said I never would, and I meant it.’

He sniffled, because the stupid tears were back with a vengeance.  He couldn’t recall ever crying or almost crying this much in his life.  What had happened to his emotional control?  He wiped his face on his sleeve and couldn’t look Draco in the eye.

‘Now let’s get up off the floor, eh?  Hermione is bringing dinner,’ Draco added with a smile.

‘That’s a good reason to get up,’ Lucius agreed, smiling back.  It was a little wobbly, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

He accepted Draco’s hand up and stood.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘What are these?’ Draco asked doubtfully.

Lucius was much more enthusiastic about them.  He had no idea what they were, either, but Hermione had made them, so they were bound to be delicious.

‘They’re chicken quesadillas,’ Hermione said with a grin at Draco’s dubious expression.  ‘I thought you liked trying new things?’

‘Usually, yes, but these look fried and unhealthy.’

‘They’re just quesadillas.  It’s not like eating fried chicken.  Don’t be such a baby.’

Draco was outraged.  ‘I am not a baby!’ he cried in a voice that was considerably higher and squeakier than usual.

Lucius snickered, which both ended the argument and made Hermione giggle.  Draco pouted but let it go.

‘How was your day, Draco?’ Hermione asked placatingly as she handed out the quesadillas.

Lucius only half-listened, too interested in his quesadilla to pay full attention.  It was crispy on the outside, which made it very pleasant to bite into.  He nearly moaned when he tasted it--the chicken was juicy and lightly spiced, and it was surrounded with a gooey, hot, wonderful cheese that he’d never tasted before.

‘Good?’

He nodded enthusiastically; Hermione grinned and turned back to Draco, who was eating much more cautiously and sedately, still droning on about Percy Weasley and his dratted budget reports.  That young man was in serious need of a hobby.

He mowed through three more quesadillas before Draco said something that caught his ear.

‘Justin Finch-Fletchley still can’t find that book he was looking for,’ he said with an exaggerated eye-roll.  ‘As though it will prove his theory right anyway.’

‘Maybe not, but if he could find the text, it would at least lend support to the idea,’ Hermione said, frowning in disapproval.  ‘Either that, or it would lend support the other way, and he would know to give up the idea entirely, and he would move on to other things.’

‘That alone would be a blessing,’ Draco muttered.

Lucius didn’t care what Finch-Fletchley’s idea was.  ‘What book is he looking for?’ he said, keeping his tone casual.

Hermione shot him an odd look.  ‘ _ Theories of Locomotion, and the Physicks of Locomotive Magick _ ,’ she said, and her tone was normal enough despite the odd look.  ‘It’s really old, and there weren’t very many copies printed to begin with.  Even the Hogwarts library doesn’t have it--Justin and I have both checked.’

Lucius filed the title away in his brain for later.  It sounded vaguely familiar, and the Malfoy collection was a lot more extensive than the library would indicate.  Some books were locked away in storage because of their great age, some because they were too precious to allow careless hands on them, and still others because they simply weren’t meant to see the light of day.  It was possible that they had it, and Finch-Fletchley was one of the people to whom he owed a debt.  If the book was, in fact, in storage here in the manor, that was a very simple way of repaying it, and it sounded as though it would mean a great deal to Finch-Fletchley.

Hermione was still watching him, he realised.  He deliberately smiled and reached for another quesadilla, and Draco started talking again, about something else.  Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze away.  Lucius sternly reminded himself to keep better control over his expression.

After dinner, they moved to the library, where Hermione and Draco had tea and biscuits Tibby had made, and Lucius laid on the sofa with his hands over his very full stomach, looking lazily at the fire and enjoying his food coma.  He felt  _ very _ full, and warm, and he had another mission for his list, and Hermione was here, and Draco was here and not angry with him, and life was very pleasant at the moment.  He didn’t want it to end.

Hermione’s giggle made him look up.  She was watching him with an amused grin.

‘Are you going to be okay?’ she asked, still chuckling.  ‘I think you might have eaten yourself into a stupor.’

Lucius hummed contentedly.  ‘I have undoubtedly done so.  That was possibly the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.’

She laughed again, and Draco shot him an amused glance before changing the subject.

‘We need to start making preparations,’ he said importantly.

‘Preparations for what?’ Hermione asked, because Lucius was too drowsy and full to be curious at all.

‘Christmas,’ said Draco, in a tone that indicated he thought it should’ve been obvious.  ‘When I was young, we used to have a Christmas party every year.  I was too young to stay up past the dinner portion, but Mother used to tell me about the dancing and the champagne and the music, and how much fun all the adults had.  I think we should re-start the tradition.’

Lucius did not care.  ‘If you want to,’ he said lazily.

Hermione shot him another grin, amused by his torpor.  ‘I think that’s a wonderful idea, Draco.  The closest I’ve ever come to seeing a proper pure-blood formal party was the Yule Ball in our fourth year, and--’

‘The Weird Sisters aren’t exactly in line with pure-blood traditions,’ Draco finished for her, smiling wryly.  ‘Never fear, we Malfoys may not know much, but we  _ do _ know how to throw a proper pure-blood party.’

She snorted.  ‘You Malfoys know plenty, and most of it is sneaky.’

‘That’s why no one knows we know it,’ Draco confirmed in a conspiratorial whisper.

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.  ‘You’re utterly hopeless.  So, what shall I wear?’

Lucius roused himself.  ‘Formal gown.  Not that you need to worry.  Potter is the one who doesn’t know how to dress himself.’

They both grinned at him this time, exchanging an amused glance.

‘I’ll make sure to pick out Harry’s dress robes,’ Draco reassured him.

‘Who will you invite?’ Hermione wondered.  ‘Surely not just our usual dinner party?’

‘No, I thought I’d invite them, but also some people from the Ministry, and some of our less-evil former acquaintances.  Also, I’ll probably invite Mother and her husband,’ he added, glancing at Lucius uneasily.

Lucius waved a hand.  ‘Go right ahead.  Just please, please let me have one glass of champagne before they arrive?’

Draco frowned.  ‘ _ One _ glass.’

‘It would probably be better for everyone if I was drunk, though,’ he said reflectively.

‘Absolutely not,’ Draco said sternly.  ‘ _ One _ glass, that’s all.’

He pouted a little, but it wasn’t really worth the effort, and he soon settled back into his pleasant haze.

Hermione shook her head, but opted not to comment.  ‘I’m not usually one to go to parties, but I think this could be fun.  And a nice change from the Weasley Christmas party, which I believe you’ll be experiencing for the first time this year, won’t you, Draco?’

He shuddered.  ‘Yes, and I dread what the twins will have in store.’

‘You should.  Last year, they set up the centerpieces for Mrs Weasley, and we found out too late that they were timed to explode.  We all got covered in some kind of disgusting green goo that wouldn’t come off short of peeling it off, and good luck trying to wash your hair.’

Draco tilted his head.  ‘So  _ that’s _ why Harry and Ron had bits of green stuck in their hair when they returned from the hols….  I just assumed they’d had an accident with some green bubble gum.  Although it  _ was _ an awful lot of green.’

She nodded sagely.  ‘That’s why.  I nearly cut  _ my _ hair off in frustration, but fortunately, Mrs Weasley made them cough up the serum to remove it before it came to that.’

‘I’m glad I can’t go,’ Lucius put in with a shudder of his own as he pictured it.

‘Yes, you lucky dog,’ she shot back, pouting exaggeratedly.

He smiled.

Draco shifted, frowning at them.  ‘If you don’t normally go to parties, what  _ do _ you do at Christmas?’

Hermione looked down at her tea, the mirth evaporating from her features.  ‘I used to spend the entire break with my parents.’

The fire crackled.  Lucius opened his mouth, but he had no words to express his sympathy, so he closed it again.  Draco looked exceedingly guilty.

She roused herself and offered them a slightly watery smile.  ‘We would decorate the tree together, and bake cinnamon rolls, and go carolling, and ice skating, and build a snowman if there was enough snow that year, and all sorts of cliché Christmas-y things.  And every night we would curl up under this big quilt together and watch a different Christmas film, although on Christmas Eve, we watched  _ The Sound of Music _ even though it’s not a Christmas film.  It’s always been my favourite film of all time, so I think my parents let me choose it on Christmas Eve when I was little, and then it just became a tradition.  Then, on Christmas morning, we would take turns opening presents, and afterward we’d play a board game, and have this enormous dinner that made us too full to eat anything but chocolates for the rest of the day,’ she said, chuckling softly at the memory, her eyes soft and far away.  ‘And that night, we’d curl up and watch  _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ , because it was my dad’s favourite.  Then I’d go up to bed, and Mum would go read while Dad played “Silent Night” on the piano to put me to sleep.’

She looked down at her tea again, biting her lip.  Lucius felt a physical ache in his chest that he’d never felt before, but he was too consumed with wishing there was something he could do for her to be overly concerned for himself.

‘Well,’ she said with a sniffle, deliberately trying to sound cheerful.  ‘I’ll just have to make some new traditions.’

‘Yes, and the first one can be attending our Christmas party,’ he said quickly.

She smiled softly at him and the ache eased.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Over the next several days, Lucius was energised with having several missions to attend to.  He continued to monitor the Lovegood situation, which was coming along quite nicely, and he began tearing apart their storage rooms, one at a time, seeking the volume Finch-Fletchley wanted.  He also began helping Draco with the party arrangements for Christmas.  And, of course, he had class to attend and the final project to work on, so he was kept quite busy, which kept his mind occupied and therefore his mood stayed fairly positive, barring a few shaky moments here and there.  Draco seemed relieved and backed off, but Hermione continued to drop by in the evenings, bearing some dish or other, ditching the dinners at the Burrow and at Grimmauld Place.  Lucius was grateful, and he was particularly pleased on Wednesday when she brought lunch again, and stayed a while longer this time.  On Tuesday and Thursday, he’d had to put up with Molly for lunches again, but he supposed it was better company than none at all.

Now that Draco had brought up Christmas, he was also occupied with trying to decide what to get for Hermione.  He wanted to get her something special, to show how much he appreciated everything she’d done for him.

The problem was that the only woman he could recall shopping for in his life was Narcissa, and Narcissa and Hermione were very different people.  Narcissa was always pleased with shiny things and perfumes and new fur cloaks and wraps.  Hermione was not vain, so shiny things and perfumes wouldn’t impress her, and also, he was pretty certain that presenting her with anything lined with real fur was likely to result in a sound hexing, or at least a very, very long, angry harangue.  What Hermione  _ did _ love was books.  Lucius thought perhaps he could work with that.

He also gained a little inspiration from his syllabus.  The only mention of  _ The Sound of Music _ in the textbook was a note that it was a Muggle pop culture icon, beloved by millions, but it said as much about  _ The Wizard of Oz _ (which piqued Lucius’s interest by title alone) and a few other films, so that was exceedingly unhelpful.  In the syllabus, however, was a mention that they would be viewing the film  _ Star Wars _ over two class periods for the unit on cinema.  That had to mean that there was a way to transfer the Muggle technology of film into a form that wouldn’t break or go haywire when exposed to magic.

And he knew just who to ask to find out how Hermione had done it.  He set his sights on Potter on Thursday evening, determined to get answers.


	13. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Lucius and Draco make a Christmas gift for Hermione. Hermione does something she regrets, and later goes to bat for Lucius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, all you lovely readers and commenters! I adore you. :)  
> Not much to say about this chapter, other than that parts of it were loads of fun to write. Next time: Christmas!

Lucius was a patient man, under most circumstances.  He’d had to be, for many years.  First, he had patiently waited for his political schemes to come to fruition in the service of his Dark Lord.  Then he had waited, biding his time, for his return (barring his somewhat rash move of passing the diary along to Ginny, in hopes that the Dark Lord could return that way).  After that, more schemes.

So he had a lot of practise.  Watching and waiting for Potter to be alone momentarily was as nothing in comparison.

He hid it well; he’d spent the last two days trying to work on his emotional control, ruthlessly wrangling his wayward moods back under his command, so he could keep them under a cool mask, where they belonged.  It still wasn’t perfect, but it was much better, and Lucius was pleased enough with the results of his efforts.  It was not, after all, actually  _ having _ confidence that mattered, so long as one could maintain the  _ appearance _ of having confidence.

There was no one better at maintaining appearances than Lucius Malfoy.

At last, Draco moved off to see to Molly and Ginny, and Ron started arguing with Neville, and Potter was alone.  Lucius was at his side in the blink of an eye; Potter very nearly dropped his pumpkin juice in surprise.

‘Mr Potter,’ he purred, instinctively towering over the shorter wizard.  ‘I would like to speak with you.  Privately.’

Potter was no more intimidated by him now than he had been when he was twelve.  He straightened, jutting his chin out at Lucius.

‘What for?’ he asked flatly, his eyes flashing green fire.

Lucius bit back a smile.  He’d always been a little impressed despite himself at Potter’s refusal to be bullied or intimidated.  Way back when, it had only made him hate the boy more.  Now, it impressed and amused him, and he felt a little, tiny, miniscule bit of fondness for the young man.

Of course, it was difficult to hate Potter after he’d saved Draco from being burnt alive.  That alone had rather effectively changed his whole attitude toward Potter, after Draco relayed the tale, and now, his worldview was changing in general, and he found it hard not to just plain  _ like _ Potter.  Not that he ever intended to admit that to anyone.

‘It’s about Hermione,’ he said in an undertone, glancing at her side of the room.

She was watching them with a slightly anxious expression, but she was too far away to overhear.

Potter glanced, too, and then nodded his agreement.  They slipped out of the sitting room and went to Draco’s study.  It had once been Lucius’s study, so he had no qualms about borrowing it long enough to have a private conversation.

He went completely rigid when he turned to find that Potter had drawn his wand, but the messy-haired wizard only cast a few privacy charms before sheathing his wand.  Lucius breathed again.

‘So.  What about Hermione?’ Potter asked, sitting and putting his feet up on the desk.

Lucius frowned at Potter and sat with a great deal more decorum.

‘I was reading ahead in the syllabus,’ he began slowly.  ‘It says that we will be watching a Muggle film.’

Potter nodded, linking his hands behind his head.  ‘ _ Star Wars _ .’

Lucius’s gaze sharpened.  ‘If you know that, then you must know how such a thing is possible.  Magic and Muggle technology do not mix--how did Hermione do it?’

Potter’s eyes narrowed, and he was silent for a long moment as he scrutinised Lucius.

‘Why do you want to know?’ he asked at last, his tone very carefully controlled.

Lucius lifted his chin a fraction, but he suppressed his first instinct to tell the boy to mind his own business.  This was too important to risk offending Potter; he couldn’t do it alone, and he doubted Draco could help him in this particular matter.

‘Hermione shared…a pleasant memory with me and Draco,’ he said reluctantly.  ‘Apparently, on Christmas Eve, she and her parents used to watch  _ The Sound of Music _ together.’

‘Really?’  Potter blinked.  ‘I never knew that.’

Lucius felt smugly superior, but made an effort not to show it.

‘So you want to figure out how she can watch it on Christmas Eve without leaving the magical world,’ he said, finally catching on.  ‘A very, uh, unique gift.’

Lucius leaned forward.  ‘Do you know how she did it?’ he pressed anxiously.  ‘If you help me, I will…owe you a favour.’

Potter snorted.  ‘You already owe me a fair few favours, Mr Malfoy.  In my opinion, anyway.’

‘I agree,’ Lucius said quickly.  ‘Add another to the list, then.’

Potter didn’t look impressed, staring at him with a raised brow.

‘I’ll pay you,’ he blurted, panicking as it looked less and less likely that Potter would agree.

Potter snorted again, rolling his eyes.  ‘I don’t need your money.’

He swallowed his pride and clasped his hands together.  ‘Please,’ he begged, quietly but earnestly.  ‘Please.’

Potter’s mouth fell open, and he gaped most unattractively for several minutes.

‘All this for a Muggle-born, Mr Malfoy?’ he asked skeptically when he’d recovered.

Lucius flinched as though he’d been slapped.  ‘If you don’t want to help me, I would prefer you just say so,’ he said coldly, dropping his gaze as his cheeks heated, burning with humiliation.  This had been a stupid, terrible idea to begin with.

‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.’

He looked up sharply.  Potter’s expression was neutral.

‘But I would like to know why the fact that Hermione is a Muggle-born seems to have stopped mattering to you.’

Lucius swallowed.  ‘Mr Potter.  I nearly lost my son.  I  _ did _ lose my wife.  I have lost my freedom, or at least most of it, with the constant threat of losing the rest of it hanging over my head every day.  I am many things, Mr Potter, but I am not a fool, and only a fool would persist in clinging to his old beliefs at this point.’

‘Then you don’t hate Muggles and Muggle-borns anymore?’

‘Hardly.  Actually, Muggles are quite fascinating.  Did you know, Muggles don’t have to go to the bank every time they need money?  They have these machines where they put in a card and it spits out money.’

He’d just read about them yesterday, and he was still pretty dazzled by the idea.  Going to Gringotts was a pain.

Potter blinked.  ‘Uh…yeah.  Yeah, I know….’

‘And Muggle-borns sometimes have very interesting perspectives.’  He paused.  ‘Besides, even if I still disliked Muggle-borns in general, Hermione would be the exception.  She is…special,’ Lucius admitted quietly, his face warming.

Slowly, Potter smiled.  This was apparently what he had wanted to hear, and Lucius’s gut unclenched.

‘All right.  I’ll help you, Mr Malfoy.  I’ll come over on Saturday, and we can get to work,’ he said, standing and straightening his robe.

‘Thank you.’  He paused with his hand on the doorknob.  ‘Will it take a very long time?’

‘It might,’ said Potter, frowning.  ‘We should be able to get it done before Christmas, though.’

Lucius nodded, relieved, and opened the door.  Three bodies fell inside, startled by the sudden opening, and tumbled to the floor.

‘Um,’ said Hermione as she looked up at them from the floor, her face fiery red.

‘Er,’ said Draco, equally red.

‘We just wanted to make sure you weren’t killing each other,’ Ginny said brightly, kicking her feet in the air as though she’d planned all along to end up on her stomach on the floor.

Potter grinned and extended a hand to her.  She took it and hopped to her feet.  After a brief hesitation, Lucius offered his hand to Hermione.  She took it and climbed to her feet, too, but she wouldn’t look at him, and she remained very red.  Draco scrambled to his feet on his own, brushing off his robes and looking like he wished to sink into the floor.

‘We aren’t killing each other, obviously,’ said Potter, still grinning.  ‘As you can see, we’re both alive and intact.  Besides, did you really think you could listen in through  _ my _ privacy charms?’

Hermione muttered something and walked off.  Lucius very much wanted to go after her, and would have done so, had three pairs of hands not snagged his robes and yanked him to a halt.

‘Hey!’ he shouted, brushing away their hands and trying to smooth his now-wrinkled robes.

‘You don’t want to go after her right now, Lucius,’ said Ginny, and Potter and Draco were nodding earnestly in agreement.  ‘She’s embarrassed, and she won’t appreciate it.’

‘But she shouldn’t be embarrassed,’ he protested, ‘and I want to tell her so.’

‘It’s your funeral,’ Ginny said, shrugging.

Lucius reconsidered his planned course of action and headed back to the sitting room with them instead.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione managed not to die of embarrassment, somehow.  She spent the rest of the night with Luna; the girl was some kind of walking talisman against any sense of embarrassment.  At any rate, she didn’t seem to know how to feel it herself, and it made Hermione feel a little better to be around her.  Strange, but true.

The next day, she very nearly stayed at Hogwarts for lunch--it wasn’t like the Hogwarts house elves weren’t ten times the cooks she was, and she loved their food--but then, she didn’t want to lose too much face with Lucius.  Besides, he was still very thin.  One week didn’t make much difference, and his health was more important than her pride.

He seemed relieved when she appeared in the doorway of the library, bearing a pan of enchiladas, but he made no comment other than, ‘Good afternoon, Hermione.’  They settled in the dining room, and he made short work of his enchiladas.  She smiled and gave him one of hers, making a mental note that he seemed fond of Mexican cuisine.  It still bothered her, though, and shortly before she had to leave, she mustered enough courage to say something.

‘Lucius, I’m…I’m sorry about yesterday,’ she managed to choke out, but she couldn’t look at him when she said it.  ‘I shouldn’t have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.  It’s really none of my business, and I should have respected your privacy.  I’m sorry.’

He didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his tone was light.  ‘I thought you were trying to ascertain whether or not Potter or I was committing homicide?’

Hermione smiled in spite of herself and looked up.  He didn’t look angry at all, his eyes light and his expression somewhat impish.

‘Well, that’s what Ginny and Draco were doing.  And I suppose I was a  _ little _ worried that you two might be fighting, but I trust that neither you nor Harry wants to be convicted of murder.  Mostly, I was just being nosy.’  She bit her lip, her cheeks heating.  ‘I can be a bit of a meddlesome busybody, to be perfectly honest.’

Lucius burst out laughing, full and clear as she’d never heard him laugh before.  It was beautiful, like everything else about him--and she immediately chastised herself for the thought.

‘You don’t say?’ he teased merrily, grinning.  ‘I never would have guessed.’

She blushed a little hotter and looked away.

‘Hermione.’

She turned back, and he was looking at her in that intense way again, his eyes nearly glowing.

‘I am…glad of it,’ he said, and his smile was softer.  ‘You have done me more good than I can tell you.’

Her heart leapt into her throat, racing at about a thousand miles per hour.  She was trapped, for a moment, in his eyes, and then he touched her hand and Hermione jerked away, tearing her eyes away from his intent gaze.

‘I-I have to go, I have a class to teach,’ she said tightly, standing quickly and gathering her things.  ‘I’m going to be late.’

‘Hermione.’

She kept moving.  He followed her to the entrance hall.

‘Hermione.’

She couldn’t ignore him, especially when he sounded so very mournful.

‘Yes?’

She looked up by mistake, and saw that he looked every bit as sad as he sounded, his eyes large and sorrowful.  She smiled, sighing as he effortlessly melted her resolve.

‘I’m just late, Lucius.  I’ll see you tonight,’ she said gently, and reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Said cheek turned quite pink, and Hermione fled so she wouldn’t have to deal with the fallout, cursing herself for a coward and a fool for the rest of the day.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius felt warm and content for the rest of the whole week-end, his cheek tingling with the memory of the light brush of Hermione’s lips.  Her approval and friendship had come to mean more to him than anything, and that barely-there kiss was as close to concrete proof of her regard as he could have asked for.  She seemed jumpy and nervous on Friday night, but she did eventually relax, and he put it down to stress over whatever injustice she was fighting that she wouldn’t tell him about.

He wasn’t so bothered by that, now.  She was so anxious to respect his privacy--he could respect hers, too.

On Saturday, Potter arrived early enough to impress Lucius.

‘Harry?  What are you doing here?’ Draco said with very blatant confusion when he arrived in the entrance hall, dragging a battered old trunk behind him.  ‘We didn’t have plans I’ve forgotten about, did we?’

Lucius stepped forward before Potter could even get his mouth open.  ‘No--Mr Potter and I are working on a project.’

Draco looked between the two of them with a comical expression of confusion.

Potter smiled.  ‘It’s for Hermione.  Your dad thought of a good Christmas present for her.’

‘From all of us,’ Lucius added quickly.  He had his own ideas for a personal gift from himself to Hermione.

‘Oh.’  Draco perked up with interest.  ‘What is it?’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ Potter teased, dragging the trunk through to the sitting room, with both Malfoys trailing after him.

Draco sniffed haughtily.  ‘I’m a  _ Malfoy _ .  Of course I can keep a secret.’

Lucius smiled with more than a little pride.  Potter shook his head at them both.

‘All right, well, we’re going to attempt to replicate something that Hermione had me help with once,’ he explained, using a tone that seemed to Lucius to be very similar to Hermione’s teaching voice.  ‘We’re going to try to convert a VHS tape of  _ The Sound of Music _ into an old-timey projector reel…thing.  Hermione knew the technical term.  Anyway, apparently, the reel thingies are old enough and simplistic enough that they don’t go haywire around magic.  The quality isn’t as good as a VHS, and nowhere  _ near _ as good as a DVD, but it’s still watchable, and the sound quality stays pretty much intact.’

Lucius cocked his head, his interest piqued.  ‘What’s a DVD?’

Potter rolled his eyes.  ‘Have Hermione explain it to you later.  Are we going to do this or not?’

The process was very slow, and Lucius could only help with part of it.  First, they had to mix a potion to soak each frame in (which Lucius mostly did himself, with Draco reading the instructions off to him).  Then they had to cut each frame off individually, soak it in the mixture for fifteen minutes each, and then Potter or Draco would perform a complicated spell over it that transfigured it into a larger reel frame.  Then, each frame had to be hung up to dry, and they had to try not to get them out of order or upside down or backward.  Once they were dry, Potter or Draco did a sealing spell to attach it to the growing roll of film on the reel Potter had provided.

Lucius ended up doing most of the menial labour parts, since he couldn’t very well perform the spells, but he didn’t mind.  It was fascinating, even though it was long and slow.

In the end, they couldn’t quite finish in one day.  Potter and Draco had a prior engagement with Ginny.

‘We promised we’d join her for a little celebratory dinner,’ Draco explained when Potter made him stop cutting frames.  ‘She was supposed to have signed the lease on the flat she chose today.’

‘Oh,’ said Lucius.  A thought occurred.  ‘Hermione, too?’

His disappointment carried over into his voice a lot more than he would’ve liked.  Potter laughed until Draco slapped his arm.

‘Yes, Hermione, too,’ Draco said regretfully.

‘Oh.’

Potter was looking at him oddly now, but after a moment, he turned away, shaking out his cloak.

‘I’ll leave everything here, we can pick up again tomorrow,’ he said briskly.  ‘We should be done by the afternoon, and then we can preview it, make sure it worked.  If not, I’ll have to buy a new tape so we can try again.’

Lucius winced at the thought.  He didn’t mind doing it, but he really, really hoped it had worked this first time around, all the same.  He saw Draco and Potter off, and then returned to rooting through storage rooms.

‘Is Master not wanting dinner?’ Tibby asked, scaring the living daylights out of him.

‘Tibby, you just about gave me a heart attack!’ he snapped, scrambling to catch a stack of books that he’d nearly knocked over when he jumped.

‘Tibby is  _ sorry _ , Master,  _ most sorry _ ,’ but he could tell she didn’t mean it, standing there with her bulgy eyes narrowed and a smug, sneaky little smile on her ugly face.

Lucius opened his mouth to rip the snotty little elf a new one, but paused.  Hermione would  _ not _ approve.  Swallowing past a bitter taste in his mouth, he attempted to smile.

‘That’s…all right, Tibby,’ he choked out, working against every muscle in his face.  ‘And no, I wouldn’t care for any dinner….’  He winced, and clenched his teeth, and added with an almost physical pain, ‘…Thank you.’

Tibby stared at him.  ‘Oh,’ she said, her squeaky voice gone rather faint, and then disappeared with a crack.

Lucius resisted the urge to vomit (barely), and went back to his sorting with a shudder.  Only the thought that Hermione would have been very pleased if she’d seen kept him from calling Tibby back so he could scream at her.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

On Sunday, they finished in the early afternoon, and Potter said that they had to preview it to make sure they’d got it right.  Lucius eagerly agreed; Draco was a little more dubious.

‘ _ The Sound of Music _ ,’ he repeated, his lip curled.  ‘The very  _ name _ is girly.’

Potter rolled his eyes as he adjusted the reel.  ‘It’s a musical.  Of course it’s girly.  It may have escaped your notice, but Hermione is a girl.’

Draco let out a mock gasp.  ‘ _ Nooo _ !  Really?’

‘Can we just watch it?’ Lucius interrupted.  ‘I don’t think Hermione would appreciate you saying she only likes something because it’s “girly.”  She says it’s discrimination to say that girls only like girl things and boys only like boy things.’

Potter shot him another one of those odd looks, but Draco openly scoffed.

‘Discrimination?  I call it an observation of simple facts!’

Lucius shrugged.  ‘Feel free to argue that with her the next time you see her.  In the meantime, can we  _ please _ watch the film?’

‘If you hit the lights, we’re ready to go,’ Potter agreed, tapping the projector with his wand.

The drapes were already shut.  Draco put out the candles with a wave of his hand, and the film started.  They were high up in the mountains, looking down into green valleys and sparkling rivers.  It was a little grainy, but it was still gorgeous.  Lucius was quite taken with it, and wished the whole film was just footage of sweeping vistas.

‘Wow,’ said Draco flatly, sarcastically.

‘Shhh,’ Lucius hissed.

The two younger wizards glanced at him in surprise, and then slid down in their chairs a little, looking meek.  Lucius nodded with satisfaction and turned back to the screen.  It was really just a white sheet they had pinned up on a wall, but it served the purpose well enough.

The wide shots of mountains ended, and they zoomed in on a blonde young woman, who started singing.  She was really quite amazing at it, although Lucius thought the lyrics were a little too flowery and innocent for his tastes.  They were beautiful mountains, but they were still just very large hills--he didn’t see the need to sing about them being alive.

The story began to unfold, and Lucius thought it was fairly intriguing.  Still, the longer it went on, the less he enjoyed the singing.  The woman was extremely talented, and he loved the sound of her voice, but the songs were just so… _ happy _ .  Very, very…twee, almost, particularly when the six million kids were singing about does being deer (female deer) and rays being drops of golden sun.  He just about gagged.

The story was engaging, though, and he thought he could see why Hermione liked it.  Personally, he enjoyed the Captain’s transformation from a tyrannical dictator into a good, reasonable father and man, as abrupt as it was.  The love story was nice, too, with an innocent young woman falling in love with someone who’d once been hard and bitter.  He particularly enjoyed the dance sequence, which was beautiful, and reminiscent of many wizard dances.

Draco had fallen asleep at some point, and Potter looked bored as it finished.

‘Well, we did it right,’ he said, turning off the projector.  ‘All the frames are facing the right direction, and they’re in the proper order.  So now, all you have to do is store this stuff somewhere that Hermione won’t see it until Christmas Eve, when we will have to sit through it with her and pretend it’s amazing.’

‘Parts of it  _ are _ amazing,’ Lucius said, defensive of Hermione’s favourite film on her behalf.  She wasn’t there to speak up for it, after all.  ‘The run from the Nazis was exciting, and I liked how the nuns broke the Nazi cars.’

Potter snorted.  ‘Yeah, which didn’t happen in real life.’

‘It’s a  _ musical _ , Mr Potter,’ Lucius sniffed.  ‘I doubt whether any of the random bursting into song happened in real life, either.  It doesn’t change the fact that it’s a nice story.’

Potter sighed and decided not to answer.  He began to pack up the equipment, leaving only the projector, reel and sheet.  Lucius had a question burning at him, and, as much as he loathed to ask him, Potter was his only current source of information, and his curiosity knew no bounds, lately.

‘Mr Potter?’

‘Hmm?’ he said distractedly.

‘What are Nazis?’

Potter turned and looked at him with his mouth open again.  His face turned a little red.

‘Um…when you get to that part of the Muggle history section in your textbook, you’ll know,’ he said, seeming uncharacteristically ruffled.

Lucius pouted.  ‘In the beginner textbook, it only goes up through the 1600s.  I haven’t purchased the intermediate and advanced ones yet.’

‘Oh.  Well, you should ask Hermione.  For now, suffice to say that they were really, really bad guys who were around in Germany in the 1930s and ’40s.’

This was not a sufficient response.  He narrowed his eyes at Potter, but the younger wizard wasn’t moved, as usual.

‘I’ll ask Hermione,’ he said decisively.

‘Good idea,’ said Potter, visibly relieved.

They shook hands before the Boy Who Lived departed, and Lucius carefully stored the projector and reel before diving back into his search for the book.  He was only interrupted at dinner, when Draco woke and began hollering through the house for him.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius seemed quite happy the next week, which made Hermione wary at first--but this time, it wasn’t the manic, over-energetic sort of joy.  Rather, it was a quiet contentment that suffused him with an inner glow, one which made it difficult for Hermione to control her errant lustful thoughts, and he remained fairly still, not fidgeting with that unnatural energy he’d had before the trip to London.  By Thursday, she had stopped being quite so alert about it, instead becoming preoccupied with something else, something which just so happened to be equally related to Lucius.

Saturday, November 20 (the upcoming Saturday), was the day that marked 200 days left in Lucius’s probation.  She wanted to do something special for him to celebrate, remembering how much it had meant to him on day 250, and she was in contact with Draco about it whenever they could steal a moment alone.  This resulted in reassuring Ginny that she did not, in fact, have designs on her boyfriend, and she was, in fact, still fighting off inappropriate feelings for the  _ other _ blond pureblood snob of their acquaintance, but Hermione thought it was worth it.

She was right, it turned out, because when she arrived and made them breakfast, and Draco announced that he was staying and celebrating with them all day, Lucius reacted with all the unadulterated joy of a child on his birthday who’s just been given a much longed-for toy.  His eyes sparkled and his cheeks remained pink the whole day, and he shyly thanked them both several times over, as though he wasn’t quite certain of his good fortune.

She had brought Monopoly (which she knew would appeal to the pair of Slytherins, since it was a game of accumulating wealth and power), and they played all day, with a break mid-day for a lunch of toasted subs.  For dinner, she’d made another pot pie as a sort of call-back to the first meal she’d brought over, and Lucius seemed to enjoy it even more than he’d enjoyed the quesadillas.  She had also made a chocolate cake, and despite trying to restrain herself, even she was nearly miserable with fullness at the end of the day.

The most interesting thing that happened, though, was also the worst.  Lucius had drifted off on the sofa, full and content, and Draco turned to her with a grim, serious expression, pulling a stack of papers from his pocket.  Hermione knew immediately that St Mungo’s had got back with him, and they silently crept out of the room.

‘No treatment,’ Draco said without preamble as soon as a privacy charm was up.  ‘None, the whole year he was in Azkaban.’

His voice and expression were both tight with controlled rage.  Hermione took the packet when he held it out and flipped through it.  Lucius hadn’t been treated by any employees of St Mungo’s of any kind, not even their semi-independent healers, since 1993, when he’d been seen to for some bruising and a minor head injury caused by being flung backward by a house elf.  She smirked slightly, and a little sadly, at the thought of Dobby.

But it confirmed what she’d suspected.  None of the Aurors involved had bothered to take their unconscious prisoner in to be checked over by a healer, as they were required to do.  None of the guards of Azkaban (the non-evil creature ones, that is; she hardly expected Dementors to care about the health of their prisoners) had bothered to do more than bind up his hurts with a few rags and an old neck brace, if they even left those on for longer than the time it took to snap the pictures.

Hermione took a deep, slow breath to try to control the fury that boiled up her throat.

‘I can’t take it in and ask for the Auror’s reports and the Azkaban records,’ Draco said abruptly, still tight.  ‘I can’t do it.  I think I may actually kill someone if I do.  How could they deny him medical treatment?  And they say  _ we’re _ monsters!’

He was shaking with rage by the time he finished, running a hand through his hair as he fought for calm.

Hermione knew the feeling.  ‘You want me to do it?’ she asked lowly.

Draco nodded stiffly.  ‘Please.’

She breathed in, then out, then in.  She hoped Draco’s faith in her wasn’t misplaced; she didn’t think she’d ever been this angry in her life.  A glance into the sitting room, where Lucius lay sleeping so contentedly, only increased her wrath as it mentally juxtaposed with the mental image of his prison photo.

‘Make a copy and I’ll take the copy,’ she said when she was sure she wouldn’t growl at Draco when she spoke.  ‘Keep the original somewhere safe.’

He nodded quickly.  ‘Will do.’

‘I’ve got some extra time on Mondays.  I’ll pay Kingsley a little visit on Monday.’

Draco smiled darkly.  Hermione returned the look, hoping and praying that she could control her temper.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was doing her best, but judging by the terrified looks on the interns’ faces as she swept by and the curious, awed looks on the more experienced Aurors’ faces, she wasn’t doing a terribly good job of not  _ storming _ to Kingsley’s office on Monday.  As she strode up to his door, his secretary nearly dropped her teacup, sloshing it dangerously.

‘Mi-miss Granger!’ she cried shrilly.  ‘Do you have an appointment?’

‘I’m making one right now,’ Hermione replied darkly, and threw the door open, slamming it behind her.

Kingsley did drop what he was holding, but fortunately it was only a quill.

‘Hermione, you startled me!  How can I help you?’ he asked, and he didn’t sound nearly as rattled as she would’ve liked.

She levelled a cool gaze at him.  ‘I want Lucius Malfoy’s arrest and Azkaban records,’ she said shortly.

There was no point in beating about the bush.

Kingsley blinked.  ‘I can’t just hand those over to someone without--’

She dropped the packet in front of him, cutting him off quite effectively.

‘Every record of every healer visit, St Mungo’s visit, and mediwitch or -wizard treatment Lucius Malfoy has ever had in his life, including treatment while he was attending Hogwarts,’ she explained, her tone still clipped.  She paused for dramatic effect.  ‘There is no record of Mr Malfoy receiving treatment of any kind after the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, in spite of the fact that his unconscious state at the time of his arrest was well-documented at the time by eye witnesses and various publications.’

Kingsley sat back in his chair, frowning.  ‘You’re accusing the Auror Department of not following protocol four  _ years _ ago?’ he said incredulously.

She did not falter.  She was too angry to be put off by simple disbelief.

‘Yes.  I am.’

He took in her steady, cold expression and blew out a breath.  ‘Hermione…even with this evidence from St Mungo’s, it will take several weeks to get the proper clearances to release the records.’

‘Then do it,’ she snapped.  ‘I don’t think the failure to follow protocol stopped there, and I intend to prove it.’

Kingsley raised a brow.  ‘To what end?’

Hermione pursed her lips.  ‘We’ll see, when I get the records.’

‘You want to see what cards you’ve got before you play your hand.’

‘A little trick I learned from my Slytherin friends,’ she said grimly.  ‘Make it happen, Kingsley.’

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly.  ‘I’ll get started on the paperwork right away.’

‘Thank you,’ said Hermione, softening a little now that she had evidently made her point.

She swept out of the room and headed straight to the Floo center.  She arrived at Malfoy Manor, casserole dish in hand, to find Lucius waiting for her in the entrance hall with a smile on his face.

‘Hello, Hermione,’ he said cheerfully, holding his hand out to take her cloak.  ‘How are you today?’

And just like that, the rage and the tension melted away.

Hermione smiled, sighing happily.  ‘I’m better now.  How are you, Lucius?’

His smile widened.

All errant lustfulness aside, this was truly the most content she’d been all day.


	14. A Proper Pureblood Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius comes to one last realisation on the road to redemption. At the Weasleys' Christmas party, Kingsley has some results for Hermione. She has an epiphany at the Malfoys' Christmas party; she, Draco and Lucius spend Christmas together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a huge thank you to snape_lust for coming up with Lucius's Christmas gift to Hermione! You are made of awesome.  
> Second of all, this is the largest chapter yet, but unfortunately, it will be the last until after the holidays. I will try to write during that time, but I am 98% sure that I won't write enough to post, so please savor and enjoy this one, okay? :)
> 
> Thirdly, I sincerely hope the discussion between Lucius and Hermione about Nazis doesn't offend anyone. It's a very, very difficult line to walk when comparing fictional tragedies with real ones, and I did my best not to diminish the real thing. The similarity between Nazis and Death Eaters is not my own invention--JKR stated that she based the Death Eaters on Nazis, and I am merely trying to use that. Probably not very well.
> 
> I don't think there was a fourth thing. If there was, I've forgotten it. Happy holidays, everyone, be safe, and as always, thank you for reading and commenting! :)

The week wore on, and on Thursday evening, Luna was all aglow with happiness.  She and Rolf had apparently got a grant that they had desperately needed to fund their project.  Hermione was very happy for her, and the dinner party turned into more of a celebratory dinner when Draco decided that was a champagne-worthy occasion.  He even offered to let Lucius have a glass, although he declined.  Hermione was actually a little concerned about Lucius’s reaction to the news; his face remained perfectly still, in that way he had when he was trying to be inscrutable (and generally succeeding).  He didn’t seem to be hiding any upset, though, so she reluctantly let it be.  She didn’t need to know every thought that flitted through his head, after all, just because the nosy, curious part of her wanted to.

The Weasleys and Harry got rather rambunctious after a while from a little  _ too _ much celebrating, and when she saw Lucius sneaking out, she decided he had the right idea and followed him out into the hallway.

‘Hey!’ she called, so he wouldn’t think she was just being a creepy stalker.

He stopped to let her catch up.  ‘Library?’ he asked.

‘Works for me.’

Blessed silence fell over them as Lucius shut the door behind them, and Hermione sat down with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back.

‘Ah, bliss,’ she said breathily.

He chuckled.  ‘That  was a bit much.  I don’t know how we’re meant to handle them at the Christmas party.’

She lifted her head to eye him curiously.  ‘How is that coming, by the way?’

‘Very well.  We’ve chosen a date, and the invitations are nearly set to go out.’

‘And…?  Do I get to know the date?’ she teased.  ‘Or do I just have to guess and show up whenever I feel like it?’

Lucius smiled and sat very near her, leaning toward her, making her suddenly very glad that she’d accidentally chosen an armchair to sit in and not a sofa or (heaven forbid!) a loveseat.

‘I should make you wait for your invitation, like everyone else.’

She pouted at him, trying hard to emulate Draco’s puppy dog eyes, and probably not succeeding, based on his obvious amusement.

‘It is on Wednesday, December 22, Miss Nosy Busybody,’ he teased back, his eyes dancing.  ‘Draco was informed by Ginny that the Weasley party will take place on the Saturday before Christmas, so we chose a date that would hopefully not invoke the Weasel Wrath.’

Hermione giggled in spite of herself.  ‘They’re not  _ actually _ weasels, you know.’

He was serenely unperturbed.  ‘Their youngest boy still refers to my son as a ferret; it’s only fair.’

She hummed noncommittally, opting not to choose a side in the Immaturity Wars.  Instead, she changed the subject.

‘Luna is so happy,’ she commented, partly to observe his reaction.

Lucius leaned back slightly and his face closed, but his eyes did not darken.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly, but there was no anger or disgust behind it that she could detect.

Most curious.  She studied him for a moment longer, but there were no more clues to be reaped, and she let the conversation lapse into silence.

‘Hermione?’ he said after a while.

‘Hmm?’

‘May I ask you something?’  He paused.  ‘Well, two somethings.’

‘Sure.’

Lucius hesitated briefly, looking like he was deciding something.  ‘What’s a DVD?’

She smiled; from the way he’d been mulling it over, she’d begun to think it was a question that was either very rude or about something bad.

‘A DVD is one of the ways Muggles store films,’ she explained, sinking into the comfortable cushions a little deeper.  ‘It’s fairly new.  They’re trying to replace VHS tapes with them.’

‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes slightly wide as he absorbed this new knowledge.  She’d noted more and more often that Muggle technology of any kind piqued his curiosity, and sometimes even got him a little excited, if it was interesting enough.

‘Well, for one thing, they’re much sharper quality than a tape, and for another, you don’t need to watch a DVD once a year like you do with a tape.  Also, tapes wear out after a while, and supposedly, DVDs won’t.  According to some of the marketing, anyway, though I don’t believe it.  I believe it probably lasts a lot longer, but everything wears out eventually.’  She tipped her head back again and closed her eyes.  ‘What is the second something?’

There was a long pause, long enough that she opened her eyes again and looked at him.  He appeared to be struggling with this question for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

‘What is a Nazi?’ he asked finally, and hunched a little like he expected her to explode at him.

Hermione blinked.  She was definitely taken off-guard, but she saw no reason to explode at him.  It was a legitimate question from a man who’d spent his entire life in the insular pure-blood community, deliberately shunning all things Muggle.  She  _ did _ wonder where he’d come across the term, but then, he had already admitted to doing some supplemental reading about refrigerators and other appliances, so perhaps he was doing supplemental reading on other topics as well.

‘Well….’  It was difficult to explain, at least in a way that wouldn’t take four hours and several graphs and pictures.  ‘You’ve heard of the Muggle World Wars, right?’

Lucius thought for a moment.  ‘Yes,’ he said, nodding.  ‘They seem to like blowing each other up.’

She tamped down on her automatic response that wizards were little better, since they liked to throw a curse at one another that could only be blocked by physical objects, and which left you dead, dead,  _ dead _ if you were even brushed by it (the only exception being Harry, naturally).

‘What do you know about World War II?’

Lucius thought again, chewing his lip.  ‘Well…something about atomic bombs.  And submarines.’

She sighed.  ‘That’s…not much at all.’

He reddened a little, fidgeting.  ‘Well, I never cared what Muggles did with themselves before.  And History of Magic class doesn’t cover anything we weren’t involved in, and we definitely weren’t involved in their World Wars, since the Statute of Secrecy had been in place for  _ quite _ some time by then,’ he added defensively.

‘Fair enough.  Okay.’  She rubbed her hands together and sat forward.  ‘There is a  _ lot _ to World War II, enough that there are still people investigating it and writing books about it and whatnot, but here’s a rough outline of the salient facts: One, in Germany, there was a very not-sane fellow by the name of Adolf Hitler.  Two, he, through a series of shady events, became the chancellor of Germany.  Three, he was the most likely self-appointed leader of the Nazi Party, which ostensibly had to do with socialism and things that we’re just not going to get into because we could literally be sitting here for twelve years.  Four, he was an  _ extremely _ charismatic speaker, who talked a lot about making Germany great again, which is what people wanted to hear.  Five, he convinced people that A) they should take over the world, and B) pretty much all of their problems were because Jews.’

‘Because Jews what?’ Lucius said, blinking and looking blank.

‘No, just because Jews.  The fact that the Jewish people existed at all was the cause of Germany’s--of Europe’s, or even the world’s--problems, in Hitler’s view,’ she said, sneering slightly.  ‘I told you he was insane.  He also convinced people that being an Aryan--having pale skin and blond hair and blue eyes, like yourself--was awesome and an obvious indicator that you were, in fact, a superior being who should be in control of all the other races.’

‘That doesn’t make….’

And then Lucius trailed off, and she could see the wheels in his head turning.  Replace the word ‘Jews’ with ‘Muggles’ and ‘Aryan’ with ‘Wizard,’ and you pretty much had Grindelwald and Voldemort’s master plans in a nutshell.  She watched it click, and Lucius’s eyes were dark when he looked at her again, the contentment gone from his expression.

‘So what happened?’ he asked lowly.

Hermione sighed.  ‘Lots of very bad things.  Genocide and war.  I really don’t want to get into it, Lucius, it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened in the history of mankind.  I mean that, I’m not exaggerating or putting you off.  You can have Draco buy you a book about it, if you really want to know.’

But Lucius was not an idiot.  ‘Genocide--they killed the Jewish people?’

‘Only, you know, six million of them or so,’ she said tightly, staring very hard at her fingers.  ‘I told you, I’d rather not talk about it.  There’s a reason I only teach it to my N.E.W.T. classes, and then on one specific day, when I will teach it, and then go home and go directly to bed.’

He moved on, but only slightly.

‘What did they do with Hitler and the Nazis after they won?’

She looked up and nearly snapped at him, but Lucius’s face was drawn and grey, and his brows were knit like he was thinking very hard about something.  Curiosity moved her to indulge him--for now.

‘Hitler killed himself,’ she said shortly.  ‘And the other Nazis were given trials.  Many of them were hung as war criminals, or sentenced to life in prison.’

‘Oh,’ said Lucius, and she couldn’t read his tone.

‘They deserved it!’ she snapped defensively, provoked by his unreadable expression.

He just looked at her for a long moment, and she couldn’t take it.  The topic was too upsetting, and she couldn’t tell what side he was on.

‘What?!’ she said, a little more wildly than she’d intended.  She made an effort to get a grip on her emotions again.

Lucius’s lips parted, but it was another long moment before he brought himself to speak.  She used the pause as an opportunity to tamp down her anger, which was partly the result of the topic at hand, and partly, she admitted to herself, the near-constant tension she had been feeling since she confronted Kingsley.  She hadn’t heard a word from the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement since Monday, and even though he’d said several weeks, every day that passed with no news ratcheted up her barely-contained fury and shortened her fuse yet another notch.  It really wasn’t Lucius’s fault, she realised, and felt guilty for lashing out at him.

‘I don’t know how many people we killed or sucked the souls out of,’ he said at last, in a soft, choked sort of voice.  ‘But I don’t think the number matters all that much.’

He stopped talking, and she waited for a moment, but that was all he said.  Hermione frowned.  He had, quite rightly, made the mental connections between Hitler, Grindelwald, and his own crazy dictator, but now, she had no idea where his mind had leapt.

‘Well, we haven’t actually counted them, and it’s been hard to track down all the Muggles, since none of you bothered to find out their names before you killed them,’ she said at length, mostly for lack of anything else to say.

Lucius seemed to crumple a little, then, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

‘It’s not--it’s not the same,’ she hurried to correct.

‘Sort of, yes,’ Lucius murmured, and he got up, moving sluggishly to the door.

Hermione jumped out of her seat and slammed a hand on it, moving between it and him, glaring with all her might.  Her mind had sent out red flags all over the place as she noted the signs of another one of his bouts of depression, and this time, she wasn’t sure she would be able to help, since she was the one who set it off.  She had to stop it before it got going.

‘It’s  _ not _ the same, Lucius,’ she said fiercely.  ‘The Nazis were much,  _ much _ worse.’

He looked at her morosely, his eyes gone pale and dead.  ‘Yes, they were worse.  But we were simply a different variety of the same breed: we were both groups of bigots and bullies, easily led by flattery, crushing those whom we deemed unworthy.  We are still the bad guys in the story,’ he said, and she watched his entire belief system shatter in the iris of his eye.

His whole life, he’d been the dashing hero, the perfect example of pure-blood superiority--only to find that he’d mistaken being born into power and wealth for actually being superior.  Only to look in a mirror and see that he was the villain all along.  Hermione couldn’t think of anything to say, but this time she chose to keep quiet, lest she make it worse.

‘I deserve it, too,’ he added in a shaky whisper.

She shook her head wildly, tears springing to her eyes.  ‘You didn’t kill anyone,’ she protested.

She reached out to him, but he stepped back, away from her, shaking his head, too.

‘Because I wanted to be able to say under Veritaserum that I had never killed anyone,’ he said bitterly, thick with his own welling tears.  ‘Not because I didn’t want to.  Not because I didn’t know exactly what we were doing.  Not because I disapproved.  Because I did, Hermione.  I  _ wanted _ to hurt those people.  I thought they deserved to die.  I thought I was better than them, and my ability to make them suffer was proof.  I enjoyed hurting them.’

Hermione ached for him, but he stepped back again when she tried to reach for him a second time.  She didn’t know what to do.  She couldn’t tell him it wasn’t true--it was.  He’d been an awful, terrible person.  But he wasn’t like that anymore, and she thought that counted for a lot--the fact that he had made such great strides, had admitted that he’d done some things wrong in his life and was remorseful, and even trying to make amends.  She didn’t know how to make him see that the way she did.

Now she wished she’d phrased herself differently.  It had been enough for Lucius to realise he’d made some mistakes in his life.  He hadn’t needed to see himself as an irredeemable monster.

‘Lucius.’

He met her eyes reluctantly, and she could see him trembling.

‘Would you do the same thing now, if you had the chance?’ she asked softly.

His brow wrinkled with confusion.

‘If one of the rogue Death Eaters showed up tomorrow and offered you a wand and a chance to go torture some Muggles, would you go?’ she persisted.

‘No!’ he said sharply, incredulous disgust flooding his features.  ‘I’d stay here and contact the Aurors!’

‘Then there you go,’ she said with a smile, satisfied.

Lucius was not satisfied.  ‘That doesn’t change anything I did,’ he argued, eyes blazing as he caught what she meant.  ‘It doesn’t undo anything.’

‘No, but you’re sorry for all of it,’ she said soothingly, ‘and that makes all the difference.  Most of the other Death Eaters aren’t sorry.  Bellatrix Lestrange would never have been sorry for what she’d done.  I mean, she was insane, but still, even the somewhat sane ones, most of them never cared at all that they’d hurt people.  You realised it.  You even told me the other day that you thought you were a terrible person, remember?  And you’re trying to be better.  I think you’ve come a long, long way.  The fact that we’re standing here having this conversation at all is nothing short of miraculous, Lucius.’

He did not appear to be moved.

‘I believe in redemption,’ she tried again, softer.  ‘I believe in second chances for the truly remorseful.  I don’t think you deserve to be hung or locked up.’  She paused.  ‘I know you bought Filch a new cat.’

His gaze sharpened, and she nodded, smiling a little.

‘He told me.  You did it because you were sorry about Mrs Norris, didn’t you?  You were sorry that she got petrified because of you.’

Lucius’s hands tightened into fists and his cheeks reddened, but he nodded slowly.  This time, when Hermione stepped closer, he didn’t back away.

‘A bad guy wouldn’t do that, Lucius,’ she said, ever so softly, not wanting him to be frightened off now.  ‘A villain wouldn’t care.  You’re one of the good guys now, because you care.  You’re not a monster, Lucius.’

He choked out a soft, heart-rending sound, and Hermione put her hands on his face, brushing his cheeks with her thumbs.  His eyes were wet as they met hers.

‘You were hurt,’ he said at last, his voice very small and wavery.  ‘You were hurt because of me.  Because I was stupid.’

‘I’m all right now.’

He blinked and the tears spilled over.  She wiped them away with her thumbs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.

Hermione smiled warmly.  ‘I forgive you.  I forgave you a long time ago.’

His lip quivered.  ‘I can’t forgive myself.’

‘I’ll help you,’ she reassured him, and kissed his cheek more boldly this time.

When she pulled away, he was still crying but he looked a little stronger, a little brighter, some of the grey pastiness fading away.

‘We’re friends,’ she said firmly.  ‘I won’t let you think of yourself that way, not if I can help it.’

A flicker of a smile passed over his face, and he looked away to search his pockets for a handkerchief, sniffling.  Hermione released him, still uneasy but a little more confident that he wasn’t going to go lock himself in his room again.

‘Sorry,’ he said in a wobbly voice as he located a handkerchief.  ‘Malfoys don’t cry in front of people.’

She smiled.  ‘I won’t tell anyone.  Witch’s honour.’

She trapped her nose between her index and middle fingers for a moment, and Lucius stopped looking so upset because he was now busy looking very, very confused.  Hermione just grinned.

‘I have never seen any witches do that,’ he prompted, tilting his head.

She giggled.  ‘I’ve only seen a few of them.  Namely, Samantha, Endora, Clara, and…shoot, what’s Samantha’s cousin’s name?’

Lucius’s brow wrinkled.  ‘Who?’

Her grin widened.  ‘Never mind.  I’ll explain it to you another time, when we’re not about to be barged in on.  I’d hurry up and finish cleaning up if I were you.’

‘Wha--?’

The door crashed open.  Draco and Ginny blinked at them.

‘I told you the library’s always occupied,’ Draco sighed.

‘Oh.  Whoops.’

Lucius drew himself up a little, looking at them with cold suspicion.  ‘And why, may I ask, did the two of you require privacy?’

Draco turned red and couldn’t form a coherent response.  Ginny seemed confused as to why this was an issue, and Hermione opted to stay out of it, rather than try to explain.

‘That’s what I thought.  Do I need to hire a chaperone for the two of you?’

Draco turned even redder.  ‘N-n-no, Father, that’s quite all right, excuse us!’ he squeaked, and dragged a protesting Ginny away by the wrist.

The tense, close atmosphere was pretty effectively broken.  Hermione tried not to smile, and couldn’t quite succeed.  Lucius merely looked smugly content with himself.

‘You don’t  _ really _ care what they get up to, do you?’ she asked, half teasing and half genuinely curious about his thoughts on premarital intercourse.  His thoughts on infidelity were pretty strict, after all, so why not everything else relationship-related?

He snorted.  ‘As long as there are no pre-wedlock babies, no, but it was awfully fun watching Draco turn into a tomato, wasn’t it?’

Hermione laughed.  ‘Yes, I suppose it was.’

Lucius grinned wickedly, and the conversation thereafter was quite a bit lighter.  Still, there were moments where his eyes unfocused and his expression grew grim, and Hermione took a moment to warn Draco before she left for the evening.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius turned in his project proposal the next week (and Hermione approved it immediately), and continued his search for the book.  He was almost hoping he  _ wouldn’t _ find it, because he needed to keep busy with something for two reasons--the most irritating of which was that Draco was keeping an annoyingly close eye on him again, constantly bothering him and asking if he was all right.  He was about ready to throw something at his son the next time he asked.

The second reason was that he didn’t want to have nothing to do but sit and think.  Thinking was bad.  Thinking led to remembering what Hermione had said about Nazis, and the connection he couldn’t help but make between their attitudes and his own (past) attitudes, and the look of hatred and disgust on her face when she talked about them.  He didn’t want to be the subject of that look, not ever.  The idea that even tangentially he was a candidate for such a look made him want to weep, particularly when he considered that she was probably not the only person in the wizarding world who thought of him and felt that way.  The worst part was that he’d brought it on himself.  He had never cared much about being liked, but the idea of being hated and reviled was extremely lowering.

He also couldn’t stop thinking about how very alike Muggles and wizards were, and he felt really, really stupid for ever thinking otherwise.  It seemed to him that they made the same idiotic mistakes, that they were equally hateful to one another, and he felt pretty low for ever having considered himself above them or better than them when he’d fallen for the same mental trap as a large, very horrible group of them.  It was very easy to look around and see the problems in the world and decide they were all  _ those _ people’s fault (whoever  _ those _ people happened to be at the time); it was a lot harder to accept that each person, no matter what group they were aligned with, had to accept some blame, and then actually try to fix the real sources of the problems.

The real horror of all this was that he had to try to accept the fact that people like the Weasleys had been right, and he had been wrong.  All of his supposed ‘good breeding’ and his vast wealth hadn’t miraculously gifted Lucius with the ability to see what the Weasleys had easily seen and accepted from childhood, and his guilt as far as they were concerned multiplied as he recalled all of his comments, both spoken and unspoken, on their poverty and breeding and their abilities (or lack thereof) as wizards.  Regardless of their actual magical talent, they were better at being decent human beings than Lucius was, and his shame knew no bounds.

‘Father?  Are you all right?’ Draco interrupted his thoughts.

Lucius roused himself.  He was supposed to be eating dinner, but he’d only succeeded in stirring it into submission, until it no longer resembled stew so much as a muddy mess.

‘Did Tibby put celery in it?’ Draco prompted curiously, a worried furrow in his brow.

He shook his head.  ‘No, I’m just not very hungry,’ he said, propping his chin on his hand in a most undignified pose.  He didn’t really care, right now.  ‘And I’m fine.  Did you buy the Weasleys Christmas presents?’

Draco’s expression froze, and then slowly turned wary.  ‘Yes….’

‘What did you get them?’

He remained wary, in spite of Lucius’s mild tone.  ‘Various things…?  Why do you want to know?’

He shrugged one shoulder.  ‘I was just wondering,’ he said morosely, dropping his gaze back to the stew-ish looking mess.

Draco hesitated for a long moment.  ‘I can put both our names on them.  Except the one for Ginny, and I could pick up something for her from you, if you like,’ he offered tentatively.

Lucius considered that.  ‘Yes, all right.  Although, I think I should also give Arthur something separate.  As sort of a peace offering.’

Draco gaped at him.

‘What?’

‘Uh…nothing.  I just…I sort of expected to have to fight you tooth and nail over having the Weasleys as in-laws, eventually,’ he said with a nervous chuckle, his face going pink.

Lucius winced.  ‘Let’s not go that far yet, Draco.  First, let’s see if Arthur and I can even manage to speak to one another without coming to blows, shall we?’

Draco smiled.  ‘Baby steps?’

He nodded.

‘Fair enough.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The month of December flew by in a flurry of buying, wrapping, and baking.  Hermione barely had time to think, but she found time for Lucius anyway.  He seemed to be making a very, very slow effort to befriend the Weasleys, as one Thursday night not long after their discussion, she spotted him in conversation with Percy, wincing and sighing as Percy droned on about his favourite topic--budget reports.  The next Thursday night, he actually spoke to Ron, hesitantly asking him how his Auror training was going.  Ron had stared at him, wide-eyed and gobsmacked, for a solid minute before he managed to reply.  Hermione was actually impressed that he’d managed to respond at all, considering he went around for the rest of the night looking extremely frightened and confused.

Lucius continued to enjoy her meals as well, eating heartily and thanking her warmly for each one.  Hermione still didn’t believe that Lucius’s plate of food was cursed by the house elves to taste bad, so one Thursday evening she decided to test the theory.

‘Let me have a bite off your plate,’ she said suddenly, during a lapse in conversation.

Lucius looked puzzled.  ‘Why?’

‘I want to see if it really tastes like hatred and bitterness,’ she said, grinning.

He smiled and slid his plate closer.  ‘It does, I’m telling you.’

She speared a carrot and a few peas, popping them into her mouth.  Lucius looked at her expectantly, and actually seemed a little crestfallen when her expression didn’t melt into disgust.

‘It tastes the same as mine,’ Hermione said after she swallowed, trying not to smile.

He pouted.  ‘Then they all taste horrible, and no one’s noticed but me.’

A giggle escaped before she could stop it, and Lucius’s pout grew more pronounced.  She patted his hand.

‘Awww, don’t look at me like that.  Maybe it’s cursed to only taste like that to  _ you _ ,’ she said, and she was partly joking and partly offering him a concession.

He immediately latched on to that idea.  ‘Clearly.  It’s the only explanation.’

Hermione couldn’t contain another grin, and hid it behind her wine glass.

The invitations for the Malfoys’ Christmas party had arrived on December 1, a few days before she received her invitation to the Weasleys’ Christmas party.  The Weasleys had seemed unperturbed by the Malfoys’ choice of date for their party, and Hermione was privately very relieved that the feud hadn’t been reignited.  Although the current happy state of Ginny and Draco’s relationship seemed to ward off any spats that might have broken out between the various Weasleys and Lucius otherwise--Mrs Weasley was extremely pro-Draco and Ginny, and not even Fred and George dared to cross that line, not with Mrs Weasley already picking out which flowers they should use to decorate their wedding.

Ginny invited Hermione to go dress shopping with her the week before Christmas, after classes had recessed.  Neither of them wanted to wear one of the three formal dresses they owned over to the Malfoys’ yet again, having worn all of them to the dinner parties on one occasion or another.  Well, Hermione had originally owned three evening gowns, but after suppers at the manor became a regular thing, she’d found herself purchasing more of them, and now half her closet seemed to be full of elegant attire.  It was somewhat disturbing, since she’d previously been unconcerned with such things, but also a little nice, she had to admit.  She still loved her comfy, well-worn robes and Muggle-clothes, but a part of her enjoyed getting dolled up for a little while each week.  She particularly liked the way a certain someone looked at her when she was dressed like that, and she hated herself for even thinking it.

‘Actually, it’s really annoying me,’ Ginny was saying as they idly touched fabrics and pawed through the cheaper, pre-made dresses.  ‘I don’t know why the first time I date someone for more than a month, it automatically means I’m going to marry him.’

Hermione raised a brow.  ‘So you don’t want to marry Draco?’

‘Well, I don’t know!  Why can’t we just be having fun and not worry about that stuff?’ Ginny whined, pouting.  ‘It sucks all the fun out of our dates when I’m constantly thinking that he might be about to propose any second.  I just wish she’d stop being so obsessive about it, is all I’m saying.’

‘I know, but she’s your mum, and you  _ are _ her only daughter,’ Hermione pointed out reasonably.  ‘You’re the only child of hers who she’s going to see in a beautiful wedding gown.  Hopefully,’ she added, thinking of the twins.

Ginny grinned as the same thought occurred to her.  ‘Dress robes are nice, too,’ she said, snickering.

‘Well.  But it’s not the same.’

‘I know, I know,’ Ginny huffed.  ‘Do any of  _ these _ dresses look good to you?  I still think you should’ve got the red one.’

‘Red isn’t my colour,’ Hermione said shortly.  It actually looked just fine on her, but Lucius didn’t like red, and  _ she was just going to kill herself _ !!!!  She sighed with frustration.

Ginny patted her shoulder.  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll find one!  Don’t give up hope, we’ve only been to two places before this, and we’ve only been at it for an hour.’

She shook her head.  ‘It’s not that, Ginny,’ she said quietly.

Ginny opened her mouth, took in her troubled, frustrated expression, and realisation dawned.

‘You’re still into him,’ she said lowly.  ‘Aren’t you?’

Hermione could’ve cried.  ‘Yes.  It won’t go away.’

‘Well, I couldn’t tell that you weren’t just friends,’ Ginny said bracingly.  ‘So you’ve been doing a better job lately, right?’

She hugged herself miserably.  ‘I kissed him on the cheek.  Twice.’

The younger witch’s mouth clicked shut, and her expression turned troubled, too.  ‘Oh.’

‘Yeah, oh.’  Hermione made another frustrated noise.  ‘I can’t get him out of my head!  Every time I turn around, I’m wondering what he’ll think of this or that, and trying to do things and buy things I know he’ll like, and worrying about how I look!  Ginny, I look just fine in red, but I know he doesn’t like it.  I can’t stop thinking about him.  He’s taken over my brain, in spite of my best efforts, and I don’t know what to do about it!’

Ginny studied her for a moment.  ‘That doesn’t sound like lust, it sounds like--’

She cut herself off abruptly, pressing her lips together.

‘What?  Ginny,  _ what _ ?  What does it sound like?’

Ginny shook her head.  ‘Never mind.  Let’s just try to focus on dresses, okay?’

Hermione sighed.  ‘Okay.’

They browsed for a little while longer.  Ginny found a red dress of her own that she particularly liked, and Madam Malkin kindly offered to tailor it for her.  The older witch noted Hermione’s unhappy expression as Ginny was getting measured.

‘You know, dear, I can make you a dress and put a rush on it, if you don’t see anything you like,’ she offered kindly.  ‘When do you need it?’

‘The twenty-second,’ Hermione replied, trying to sound happier than she felt.

‘Ah, the Malfoys’ party?  I’ve had quite a few customers in here getting their old things tailored and spruced up, or getting something new made,’ Madam Malkin said knowingly.  ‘Malfoy parties are rather known for their formality and extravagance.’

Hermione’s stomach dropped.  ‘Really?   _ How _ formal?’

‘Well…for one thing, they are so formal that when you arrive, you’ll receive a dance card, like the ladies always did in the old days,’ Madam Malkin said approvingly.  ‘At least, if it’s anything like the parties they used to throw.’

‘It’s supposed to be exactly like,’ Ginny put in.

‘Then you’ll also be announced when you arrive.’

Hermione rapidly reimagined ‘proper pureblood party’ as something from Jane Austen.  It was not comforting.  She knew how to dance well enough, she supposed, thanks to her parents paying for lessons, and she hadn’t exactly embarrassed herself in fourth year, but this was different.  This was a whole different world, full of classy, polished, elegant people.  Hermione knew she cleaned up all right, but there was a huge difference between ‘cleans up nicely’ and ‘looks and acts like a princess.’

‘Maybe I’ll look around again,’ she said faintly.

Madam Malkin nodded, still approving.  ‘You do that.’

She paced through the fabrics again, trying not to pass out, and then something caught her eye.  It was a beautiful, satiny fabric that shimmered when it was moved, all sky blue and silver.  She wasn’t particularly certain that she would look good in it, but she  _ was _ certain that it was the most beautiful fabric she’d ever seen.  She took it up back to where Ginny and Madam Malkin were discussing the alterations to Ginny’s dress.

‘Oh, Hermione!’ Ginny gasped as soon as she came into view.  ‘It’s gorgeous!’

‘Isn’t it?’ Hermione breathed.

Madam Malkin smiled warmly.  ‘Would you like to pick out a pattern?’

‘Yes, please!’

Another half hour later, they left, both with assurances that their dresses would be finished and available for pick-up by December 21.

‘We’re going to look fabulous!’ Ginny crowed, linking arms with Hermione.

‘Yes, right before we fall on our faces,’ Hermione muttered.

Ginny merely laughed.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione shielded herself as soon as she stepped out of the Burrow’s fireplace.

Harry chuckled.  ‘You’re not going to maintain that all night, are you?’

‘Yes.  Yes, I am,’ she said seriously.

He thought for a moment, and then his own shield popped into being.  He toasted her with his pumpkin juice.

‘Good point, as always, Hermione.’

She grinned.  ‘Why, thank you.  Happy Christmas, Harry.’

‘Happy Christmas, Hermione.’

She wended her way through the party, saying her hellos and Merry Christmases (and Happy Hanukkah, once or twice).  There was punch, pumpkin juice, and champagne, biscuits, cake, and sticky buns, as well as general gaiety.  She assiduously avoided the twins, who were looking wickedly diabolical, and tried not to touch anything they might have tampered with--which was pretty much everything.  She’d been there for several hours (and was laying off both the punch and the champagne, as her head was getting a bit fuzzy from the sugar and alcohol) when Kingsley approached her, bearing a serious expression and a packet of papers.

‘Let’s sit down,’ he said, taking in her somewhat cloudy expression.

Hermione was feeling more alert already, but she nodded and followed him to a secluded corner, where he immediately put up several privacy charms.

‘What have you got?’ she asked, her head clearing as she zeroed in on the packet.

He handed it to her.  ‘All the records you asked for.’  He appeared to mull something over, and finally added, ‘I also have collected a few rumours.  I don’t have anything concrete, but I’ve heard some things I didn’t like.  I need to do some more investigating, but if they’re true….’

Hermione frowned and stopped flipping through the packet for a moment.  ‘What have you heard?’

Kingsley shifted uncomfortably.  ‘Beatings.  And worse.’  His brow wrinkled.  ‘Azkaban is already cold, and the Dementors made it worse, back then, but there are rumours that certain guards used to cast Cooling Charms on Malfoy.  For fun.’

Lucius was always cold--always.  If he wasn’t at least wearing three layers or under a blanket, he shivered.  It was very possible that he’d been routinely subjected to Cooling Charms.  It was also possible that the guards had unknowingly done permanent damage to his core body temperature.  Cooling and Warming Charms were meant to be cast on clothing and blankets and such things, not human bodies--there were separate, medical charms for that.  Hermione let out a long, slow breath, trying to release the fresh wave of fury that assailed her.

‘And there’s another thing.’  Kingsley paused, looking like he was struggling with some anger of his own.  ‘This rumour is a little more evasive, but I’ve heard it whispered here and there that someone performed unauthorised Legilimency on Malfoy, and that they did it more than once.’

Hermione put a hand over her mouth in honest fear that she might vomit.  It made so much horrible sense that it felt like her whole body wanted to turn inside out from the shock and horror and terrible, terrible rage.

Draco had once told her that Voldemort occasionally used Legilimency as a punishment, but he much preferred the Cruciatus, since it was so much more dramatic and theatrical.  But now, thinking back to the time of her capture and torture, Lucius’s total lack of confidence, his shaky fear of everything around him, his lack of emotional control, these things were consistent not just with exposure to Dementors, but also to a mental attack of any kind.  He’d only been exposed to the Dementors for a year, so the severity of his condition was surprising-- _ unless _ he had also been attacked with Legilimency by someone who had the desire to make it torture.  It was even possible that Lucius didn’t remember it happening, although it was equally possible that he did, and simply didn’t want to talk about it.

‘Oh, my God,’ she murmured when she’d regained control of her stomach.  She still shook with contained rage, but there was little she could do about that.

‘I agree,’ said Kingsley seriously.  ‘I’m going to investigate the matter.  In the meantime, you’ve got the information you wanted, and if the rumours aren’t true, it’s more than enough to get just about anything you want, barring total amnesty.  I have to say, I was pretty dubious when you first came to me, but after reading those reports, well…I’ve never had much use for Lucius Malfoy, but even he didn’t deserve the things I read in there.  If the rumours  _ are _ true, I may buy him a jacuzzi and a beach vacation on the Ministry’s Galleons.’

She laughed at that, though it was a little strained.  ‘Even the packet is that bad?’

Kingsley snorted.  ‘In one entry, they don’t specify exactly what he did to deserve it, but they took away his clothes and stuck him out in the courtyard with a Dementor in the middle of February, for an hour.  All it says is “misbehaviour,” but they don’t explain exactly what that means.  It was approved by the supervisor of the time.  Believe me, if those wizards still work for us, they are  _ so _ sacked, after I finish my investigation into the rumours.’

And if the rumours were true, they’d probably cast a Cooling Charm on him to boot.  The blood pounded in her veins, red spots dotting her vision.  All she could manage in response was a tight nod.

‘Well, while I’m investigating, you can read through that and decide what you want.  Whatever you want for him, I’ll make sure you get it,’ he said with grim determination.

Hermione tried to smile.  ‘Thank you, Kingsley.  I knew I could count on you.’

He smiled faintly in return, and then reached into his pocket.  ‘In the meantime, I’ve got a Christmas present for Mr Malfoy.’

She perked up a little.  ‘What--?’

Tears sprang to her eyes.  In her hands was a three-day pass to access his gardens, valid all day and night on December 23, 24 and 25.

‘It actually activates on December 22, at eight o’clock, and ends on December 25 at 11.59,’ Kingsley said with a mixture of kindness and smugness in his voice.

She threw her arms around his neck with a little cry.  He laughed, deep and rolling, and after a moment, she released him, wiping her eyes with only a tiny smidgen of embarrassment.

‘Thank you so much, Kingsley, you have no idea how much this will mean to him,’ Hermione said shakily.

‘Now that I’ve reviewed his probation conditions, I have an inkling,’ he said gently.  ‘Anyway, I could’ve given it to him myself, but I thought you’d want to tell him in your own way.  He and I aren’t on the best of terms, so it will probably mean more coming from you.’

‘I’ll give you credit, though,’ she said hurriedly.  Then, thoughtfully, she added, ‘But I do have an idea….’

He grinned.  ‘I thought you would.’  He patted her hand.  ‘You get back to me, after the holidays, perhaps, and we’ll work out some  _ new _ probation conditions for Mr Malfoy.’

They parted ways, and Hermione worked through the crowd again to find Draco, eager to discuss her news with him.  Unfortunately, when she located him, he was less than able to have any kind of discussion.

‘Herminone!’ he blubbered as soon as she came upon him, Ginny and Harry.  ‘Herrimone!  You there!’

She curled her lip in disgust.  ‘Draco, you’re drunk!’

‘No, I’m happy!  I had lots of punch!  It was tasty!’

He punctuated this statement with a hiccup.  His hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed.  He swayed back and forth, and probably would have fallen over if Ginny hadn’t had both arms around him, holding him up.

‘Fred and George spiked the punch, and I didn’t tell Draco soon enough,’ she explained, sighing as Draco started talking about how pretty her hair smelled.

‘I’m not  _ that _ drunk, but I didn’t realise it until too late, either,’ Harry admitted sheepishly, and she noted for the first time his pink cheeks and slightly bleary eyes.

Hermione heaved a sigh.  ‘Well, let’s get Draco home first, then we’ll get you home, and then, I think we’ve all had enough party for one night.’

‘Weren’t we going to take some sugary stuff to Father?’ Draco wondered, pouting.

‘If we were, we’re not now, because who knows what else the twins have tampered with?  Now come on, put your arm round my shoulders.’

‘I don’t like you like that, Hermy,’ he said, and then giggled.

Hermione sighed and took his arm anyway.  Ginny got the other side, and Harry grabbed onto the back of Draco’s robes, and they went out to the Apparation point.

They arrived in Malfoy Manor with a pop, and immediately there were twin groans.

‘Harry, if you puke on me, vengeance will be mine,’ Ginny said fiercely.

He sat on the floor, holding his stomach.  Hermione exchanged a long-suffering glance with Ginny, and they half-carried a very miserable Draco out of the entrance hall, toward the stairs.  Lucius emerged from the library, his head tilted with curiosity, and paused when he saw Draco half-hanging between the two witches.

Draco groaned.  ‘Why’d you stop?  ’M gonna be sick….’

‘He’s drunk,’ Hermione explained shortly.  ‘Fred and George spiked the punch.’

Lucius’s face cleared as he comprehended, but Draco reared up with a mulish look on his face.

‘I am not drunk!’ he protested.  ‘Why are you mean?’

‘Because we’re girls,’ Ginny said.  ‘It’s what we do.  And we stopped moving because you stopped.  If you want to get up the stairs, you’re going to have to pick up your feet.’

‘You could levitate me, ’cause magic,’ Draco said helpfully.

Hermione snorted.  ‘You think you’re sick now?  If we levitate you, you’ll lose your lunch in a hurry.  Are you going to move or not, Mr I’m-Not-Drunk-I’m-Just-Happy?’

Lucius laughed, quickly covering it with a cough, and Draco pouted.

‘Everyone is mean to me.  Nobody likes me,’ he said mournfully.

‘Of course we like you,’ she soothed.  ‘We just don’t want you to vomit on us.  Can you feel your legs at all?’

‘I think…they are connected to my body, but I’m not sure,’ he said, a bit bewildered.

Lucius stepped forward and picked up Draco’s feet, prompting a ‘Whoooa!’ from the younger wizard.  Hermione and Ginny flashed him a smile, and between the three of them, they got him up the stairs.

‘Do you need to go to the bathroom?’ Ginny asked.

‘I need to throw up,’ Draco replied solemnly.

Rolling their eyes, they set him on his feet in the bathroom, where he promptly collapsed to his knees and became very, very friendly with the toilet.  Hermione and Lucius excused themselves to the hallway, leaving him to Ginny.

‘Ginny knew they’d spiked it, but she didn’t tell Draco and Harry in time,’ she sighed, folding her arms.  ‘Harry is sitting in your entrance hall, hopefully  _ not _ vomiting, although I make no guarantees.  He realised it on his own, so it’s possible that he’s less drunk.  At any rate, he didn’t start butchering my name like Draco did.’

Lucius heaved a sigh of his own.  ‘At least Draco’s not a violent drunk.’

‘Ding ding ding, we’ve found the silver lining,’ Hermione said, deadpan, and Lucius chuckled.

‘Okay, you two, he’s cleaned up, and now we have to try to get him into bed,’ Ginny announced.  ‘He’s lost the ability to stand on his own, I think.’

They wrestled the floppy, dizzy younger Malfoy into bed, and Ginny started wrangling his shoes off while Lucius closed the drapes.

‘Herm--Hermany?’ Draco slurred.

Hermione sighed.  ‘Yes?’

His eyes were large and his lower lip stuck out in a pout.  ‘Ginny won’t come over for Christmas.  Will you come?  Will you and Harry come and have Christmas with us?’ he asked, sounding like a very small boy.

‘I think Harry is spending Christmas with Teddy and Andromeda,’ she said gently.

His lower lip began to quiver and he looked at her sadly.  ‘But you’ll come, won’t you?  You’ll come on Christmas Eve?  And Christmas Day?  And Boxing Day?  And you can stay the night, we have guest rooms.’

She hesitated.  ‘Won’t your mum be here?’

‘No,’ Draco sniffled.  ‘She’s only coming for the party and the day after, and then they’re going to spend Christmas with  _ Andrew’s _ family.  You’ll come, though, won’t you?  Pretty please?’

Ginny was looking distinctly amused, but she said nothing, tucking Draco in instead.

Hermione sighed, defeated.  ‘If you still want me to when you’re sober, and if your father is all right with it, then yes, I will come over for Christmas.  I can’t spend the night unless I can bring Crookshanks along, though.’

The pout instantly evaporated, replaced by a childlike grin.  ‘You can bring Crooks, he’s cute and fluffy, and you can make Christmas dinner!’

She and Ginny laughed outright.

‘So  _ that’s _ what you’re really after!’ Ginny giggled.  ‘You want Hermione’s cooking!’

Draco was unashamed.  ‘Mother used to order some food from some fancy restaurant, so I’ve never had a home-cooked Christmas dinner, and it sounds tasty.’

Hermione looked at Lucius, who looked equal parts amused and hopeful himself.

‘Well?  What do you think, Lucius?’ she asked, grinning.

‘You should come,’ he agreed immediately.  ‘And you should bring your cat.’

Her grin widened as she mentally translated that to ‘you should stay the night.’

‘All right, then, I will.’

‘Yaaaaaaay!’ shouted Draco, and turned to Ginny, his brain immediately switching gears.  ‘You can’t leave, Hermy can take Harry home, and I want to kiss you!’

Lucius shot Hermione a wide-eyed look and mouthed, ‘Hermy?’  She just rolled her eyes in response.

‘Right, we’ll, uh, leave you to it,’ she said aloud, beckoning Lucius after her.

Before the door closed, they heard Ginny tell Draco that she wouldn’t kiss him when his breath smelled like vomit.

‘ _ Your _ breath smells like cheese!’ he chirruped back.

Lucius let the door click shut, and Hermione erupted with giggles.  He cupped her elbow to steady her as she started back down the stairs.

‘Is he always like that when he’s drunk?’ she managed to ask between breaths.

‘Draco doesn’t get drunk very often,’ Lucius hedged, ‘but I think I’ve seen him like that once before.’

She shook her head, calming.  ‘Well, if he changes his mind about having me over after he sobers up, please do have him let me know.’

‘He won’t change his mind.’

She raised a brow, but he didn’t meet her gaze, and then they were in the entrance hall.  Harry was sprawled out on his back, snoring.

‘Oh, boy,’ Hermione sighed.

Lucius snorted.  ‘Leave him there.  We’ll send him home in the morning.’

‘I can’t do that,’ she protested, grinning despite herself at the notion.  ‘Ginny will think I left him for her to clean up.  No, I’ll just have to levitate him.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said, shrugging.

Her grin broadened.  ‘Good night, Lucius.’

‘Good night, Hermione,’ he said, soft and velvety, and she blamed that tone of voice, and the champagne earlier, for her slip-up in giving him yet another peck on the cheek before she took Harry and left.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione and Harry ate dinner before going to the Malfoys’ party.  Harry had protested that a supper was supposed to be the first segment of the evening, after everyone had arrived, to which she had pointed out that they were going to be wearing dress clothes and sitting with a bunch of prim and proper, elegant people, and they didn’t want to spill anything, did they?  She intended to nibble enough to be polite, and that was all.  Harry bowed to the wisdom of that, so they ate enough to be mostly full.

Afterward, they separated to get changed.  She took longer, naturally, because in addition to changing her clothes, she had makeup to apply and a bush of hair to tame.  Harry was waiting in the kitchen when she’d finished, and his eyes just about bugged out of his head when she came down the stairs.

‘H-h-hermione, you look….’

She adjusted her gown self-consciously.  She’d gone for a fairly simple, classic style, in the hope that it wouldn’t look like she was trying too hard to be fashionable.

‘Stop fidgeting, and you look amazing,’ he said, smiling now that he could see she was nerved up, too.

Hermione smiled shyly.  ‘Thanks, Harry.  You look good, too.’

He would probably even pass muster by Lucius’s standards, since he’d actually managed to get his own messy hair to lie flat, for once, and Draco had picked out his dress robes.

‘Thank you.  I’m just hoping not to get sneered at,’ he joked, but she could see the underlying tension.

‘Relax,’ she said, as much to herself as to him.  ‘Lucius isn’t going to eat you or breathe fire just because you’ve got a hair out of place.’

Harry snorted.  ‘Says you.  Oh, and I have some good news--Molly forbade the twins from attending, after that little stunt they pulled with the punch.’

She blew out a breath, relaxing just a fraction.  ‘That’s a relief.  And remember, slow sips for both of us.  Drunken antics will not be as amusing to the Malfoys as they are to the Weasleys, particularly on an occasion like this.’

He nodded quickly.  ‘Right.  And I’ll be seeing if there’s any pumpkin juice instead of wine or champagne.’

‘Good idea.’

‘So, are we ready?’

‘As ready as we’re going to get,’ she said, and her stomach tightened as about a million butterflies seemed to erupt inside it.

He offered his arm.  ‘Let’s go, then.’

They took a deep breath and Apparated.  Hermione’s jaw immediately dropped as she was greeted with the entrance hall--except, it wasn’t its usual black and marble, dreary self.  There were decorations everywhere, and about a million candles floating over their heads in silver holders that sparkled and reflected the light.  They had hired staff, too, as there were white-uniformed wizards waiting to take their cloaks, and another waiting to escort them to the parlour, which they had never been in.  The explosion of decorations and candles continued all the way there, and inside the parlour as well.

As it turned out, the parlour was a larger, more elaborate version of their sitting room, obviously intended for showing off to a large number of guests.  There was another white-uniformed wizard waiting at the door, and several more wending through the crowd of people, bearing trays of drinks and appetisers.

Hermione laid a hand on Harry’s arm before he could step forward and speak to the wizard at the door.  She wanted a moment to observe the crowd.  He seemed to understand.

It was every bit as elegant as she’d expected.  The people in this group were so elite, so rich and high-up, that she didn’t even know most of them.  She recognised a few from the Ministry, here and there, but mostly, this was a social stratosphere with which she was completely unfamiliar--and they were as classy, as mannered, as graceful as she’d feared.  Luna and Neville stuck out like sore thumbs, standing by the fireplace looking awkward.

The only other person she recognised so far was Narcissa, who was standing with Luna and Neville, her boy toy husband Andrew standing at her elbow and looking dim but gorgeous.  She had married him for his looks and his money, not his brains, and he was serving his function perfectly.

Hermione didn’t see Lucius or Draco, but she imagined that they were probably deeper in the room than she could see.  She nodded at Harry, and he stepped forward.

‘Um…hi,’ he greeted the white-uniformed wizard.

The wizard looked bored.  ‘I’m to announce you.  Your names?’

Harry straightened, putting on his own ‘your existence bores me’ face.  ‘Mr Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger.’

The wizard nodded, handed Hermione a dance card to hang on her wrist, turned to the room, and announced their names with the same bored expression.  Everyone in the parlour turned to look, so Hermione adopted her own cool mask, lifted her chin, and they glided into the room.  She thought perhaps Harry had been practising, and was simply relieved that they hadn’t tripped and gone sprawling.  A few faces that had looked expectantly disgusted turned approving.  Most of the disgusted faces remained disgusted, and Hermione wondered if they were disgusted by her, Harry, or both.

Lucius and Draco, with Ginny on his arm, materialised from the crowd and came forward to greet them.  It wasn’t like when they were alone, Hermione noted a little sadly.  They touched hands and bowed and curtsied, and said very stiff, formal ‘hello, how are yous.’  Hermione stopped just short of fleeing to Neville and Luna’s side.

She didn’t like this Lucius.  He reminded her of the old Lucius--his expression was cold and distant, without a flicker of emotion or warmth.  It made her ache, and she didn’t want to know why.

‘Welcome to the party,’ said Neville glumly.

Hermione looked around, hiding her discomfiture with a disdainful expression.  ‘It is a bit frosty, isn’t it?’

Harry wasn’t hiding his own discomfort very well.  Only Luna seemed not to have noticed, lost in her own little daydream, judging by the far-off smile on her face.

Narcissa smiled and stepped in closer.  ‘That’s the pureblood way, my dear.’  She extended her hand.  ‘Miss Granger, it’s lovely to see you again.  Particularly since the circumstances are much friendlier this time.’

Hermione hesitantly touched her hand.  ‘Yes, likewise, Mrs…?’

‘ _ Ms _ Black,’ Narcissa corrected mildly.  ‘I chose to keep my own name when I married this time.  Since I’m the last, it seemed appropriate.’

‘Ah, I see.’

‘And anyway, you must call me Narcissa,’ she said with a sweet smile that Hermione couldn’t gauge the sincerity of.  ‘Draco tells me you’ve been a darling friend to him, and any friend of my son’s is a friend of mine.’

She attempted a smile of her own, but her face felt frozen.  ‘Then you must call me Hermione,’ she said, but only because it was the polite thing to do.

Narcissa’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and now Hermione thought the smile might be genuine.  Harry and Neville were murmuring to each other, most likely complaining about the atmosphere.

‘Draco also tells me that we’ll be dinner partners this evening,’ she said in the sort of tone that conveyed just how  _ marvelous _ she thought that was.  Hermione suddenly realised that she was dealing with a master socialite.  ‘So we’ll have plenty of time to catch up.’

Hermione’s stomach dropped.  ‘Wonderful.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Kingsley, the Weasleys, and half the Ministry trickled in over the course of the next half hour, until the parlour was filled practically to the gills with people, and then the familiar chime signalling dinner sounded.  They followed the trail into a massive dining room with the longest table Hermione had ever seen.  She was, indeed, seated between Harry and Narcissa, near the very end of the table.  Lucius was seated at the head this time, looking like a pale king, with Draco at his right, and she could barely see either of them.

It was just as well, she reflected.  If they were going to be cold and distant the whole evening, then she had no interest in interacting with them tonight.  She hadn’t realised just how close to them she’d become, that the disparity between the ‘real’ them and the ‘public’ them was so large, and she hadn’t expected it to hurt.  The less she was around them, the less chance there was that her own emotionless mask would slip.

Dinner was an exercise in torture.  There were seven courses, and through each one, Hermione tried to nibble as daintily as possible, only to unfavourably compare her awkward efforts to Narcissa, who was effortlessly dainty and ladylike.  Her own consolation was that she did pull it off better than Harry, on her other side, who’d managed to spill something on his tie despite his attempts at gentlemanly eating.  Well, and then there was Ron, who was beside Harry on  _ his _ other side, and who looked like a hog seated beside humans, in comparison.  Hermione sent a wandless cleaning charm at Harry’s tie and continued her own struggle, half-listening to Narcissa’s stream of empty chatter.

After the dinner finally,  _ finally _ ended, they adjourned to the ballroom.  Hermione had never seen this room, either, and it was both immense and gorgeous.  It was the only room in the whole house (that she’d seen thus far, anyway) not decorated in black and marble.  Instead, the walls and ceiling were adorned with paintings and intricate sculptures in gold leaf, and a huge chandelier hung directly in the center, bathing the room in warm golden light.  It was such an enormous room that even with the many, many, many people who’d been invited, there was more than enough space for dancing.

Draco announced the first dance shortly after they arrived, and the orchestra stuck in the corner started up.  Hermione curiously consulted her dance card.  There were blank spaces beside twenty numbers, at least on the first two pages.  She chuckled inwardly at the notion that she’d fill any of them.  She’d be lucky to get a dance out of Harry, let alone being asked by any of the strangers here.

The floor filled with twirling, beautiful couples, and Hermione led Harry off to one side so they wouldn’t be in the way.  He looked at her guiltily.

‘I’m not much of a dancer, but if you want--’

She shook her head.  He clearly didn’t want to, and her toes kind of agreed with him.

‘That’s all right, Harry.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked worriedly.

Hermione smiled reassuringly.  ‘Yes, I’m sure.  I may be a better dancer than you, but I don’t think I could keep up with this lot,’ she added, nodding toward the flawlessly elegant spinning and promenading being performed.  It almost looked choreographed, except that she doubted Mr and Mrs Weasley had been in on it, and they were out there, too, showing a surprising turn of foot and grace that she hadn’t suspected they possessed.

‘You’ll never know until you try,’ Narcissa said, nearly scaring Hermione into a visible reaction.

They turned to find Narcissa, Andrew, Draco, Ginny, and Lucius joining them.  She tried very hard not to be  _ too _ cold while maintaining her indifferent expression and tone.

‘And why aren’t you out there?’ she asked, raising a brow.

‘I’m waiting for the next one,’ Narcissa said with another sweet smile.  ‘The initial rush to show off dies out a bit after the first dance.’

‘And I’m not out there because Draco’s a wuss,’ Ginny said brightly.

This explained Draco’s sour expression.  ‘I am not!’

‘Oh, then you’re ashamed of me?’

He turned extremely red, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her toward the dance floor.  Ginny grinned over her shoulder at them, triumphant.  Hermione tensed, but Draco was a good leader, and they managed not to get trampled by the more experienced couples.  Barely.

Hermione watched them for a bit, but eventually her gaze unfocused, the individual dancers become a spinning, whirling mass of colours.

‘Are the two of you planning to not dance at all?’ Andrew suddenly asked, jerking her out of her trance.

She was rather amazed.  She didn’t know he spoke.

‘Well,’ said Harry, reddening, ‘to tell you the truth, um.  I’m not a good dancer, at all.  The best I can do is a slow waltz, and then I have to count.’

‘And you still step on your partner’s toes,’ Hermione put in helpfully.

He winced.  ‘Right.  So, probably not.’

Lucius spoke to her properly for the first time all evening, and Hermione deliberately looked away when he addressed her.

‘What about you, Hermione?  Aren’t you going to dance at all?  Surely you’re not as hopeless at it as Mr Potter.’

His tone was coolly amused, bordering on disinterested.  No, she did not like this Lucius at all.

‘Very nearly,’ she said coldly.  ‘Excuse me.’

She’d spotted Neville and Luna sitting on the opposite wall, and made her way over to them gratefully.

‘Slytherins,’ she sighed when she arrived, sitting beside Neville.

‘Seconded,’ he sighed back.

They sat silently (save for Luna’s distracted humming) until the number ended and the second dance was announced.

‘Well,’ said Neville bravely, standing.  ‘Would you care to try it with me?’

She smiled genuinely for the first time since she’d arrived and accepted his hand up.  Neville had kept in practise after fourth year, so she knew he was a more than fair dancer.  They took a place on the floor and the dance began.

Within three steps, Hermione had completely relaxed.  She was in the arms of a friend, she knew this dance by heart, and she was wearing a beautiful dress, even if only Harry had commented on it.  She didn’t realise when she began to glow with happiness, attracting attention from her fellow dancers and the bystanders alike.

‘You look very nice, by the way,’ Neville said during a less-strenuous part.

Hermione smiled brightly.  ‘Why, thank you.  You look very dapper yourself.’

‘Thank you.’

They spun and whirled, easily keeping pace with the graceful figures around them.  She was not aware that they were now graceful figures themselves.

The dance finally came to an end, and she curtsied to Neville’s bow.

‘Thank you, that was refreshing,’ she said, grinning.

Neville didn’t get a chance to answer, because she was suddenly swamped with wizards asking if they could have the next dance.  Hermione was bewildered by this abrupt swarm, but she did her best to sort them out.  In a matter of a few minutes, she’d filled the first two pages.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Two hours later, Hermione politely begged off from the group of wizards following her around, ignoring their  _ very _ put-out dates.

‘Thank you, gentlemen, but I need a rest,’ she said sweetly.

Her feet were killing her and her face was hot and sweaty.  Reluctantly, grumbling, they returned to the witches they were  _ supposed _ to be escorting, and Hermione snagged a glass of punch and a chair, nearly moaning with relief.

‘You dance beautifully.’

Hermione jumped, but it was only Narcissa--alone this time.  She sat beside Hermione, smiling kindly.

‘Thank you,’ Hermione sighed.

She was watching Lucius dance with a very tickled Mrs Weasley, she realised, and tore her gaze away.

‘I wanted to thank you,’ Narcissa said quietly.

Hermione looked at her, surprised.  ‘Thank  _ me _ ?  For what?’

‘For looking after Draco.’

She shook her head before Narcissa could continue.  ‘That wasn’t me, not really.  It was mostly Ginny and Mrs Weasley.’

Narcissa smiled faintly.  ‘But you’ve helped a great deal.  He’s very fond of you.’  She looked down into her glass, her perfectly-shaped brows drawing together.  ‘Mostly, I wished to thank you for helping Lucius.  He’s so much better than he was, and it’s helped Draco now that he’s got that burden off of his mind.’

Hermione stared at her for a long moment.  ‘Why did you leave?’ she demanded, but kept her voice down.  ‘How could you leave them the way they were?  You left Lucius when he needed you the most.’

She couldn’t quite keep the accusation out of her tone.

Narcissa winced slightly.  ‘I know.  I was there, remember?’

Hermione stared at her implacably.

A soft, resigned sigh.  ‘You must understand that our marriage was arranged for us by our parents.  We got along and we liked each other well enough, so we agreed to it.  It took a long time for us to build a relationship out of a casual friendship.  There were many moments and shared experiences along the way that made us into the loving couple that we were,’ Narcissa explained, her eyes distant with memory.  ‘Lucius doesn’t remember most of those moments and experiences.  I had nothing on which to rebuild our relationship, because the moments that I connected with no longer existed for him.  He doesn’t remember the birth of his own son, did you know that?’

Hermione’s heart twisted.  ‘No, I didn’t know that,’ she said lowly.

Narcissa shook her head, smiling sadly.  ‘He doesn’t remember Draco being born.  He doesn’t remember holding him in his arms, he doesn’t remember crying and promising to protect him always.  I know he still loves Draco, but those precious moments are gone.  The man I married is gone, and I didn’t have the strength to rebuild our marriage from scratch.  If he had still had those memories, then perhaps….’

She trailed off for a moment, and Hermione didn’t interrupt her thoughts, aching for her, too.  She had thought Narcissa had simply looked around, decided it was someone else’s problem and left.  She’d never considered that when Lucius was broken and most of his happiest memories were stolen, Narcissa had, in essence, lost her husband.  He was still alive, but she’d lost him all the same.

‘But there’s no use in contemplating the what ifs,’ Narcissa said after a moment, shaking her head as though to shake the thought away.  ‘You must also understand that we were all broken by the end of the war.  I had spent too long being terrified--too long suffering, watching my family suffer.  I had no strength left to give.  Draco and Lucius were both looking to me, leaning on me for support, and I was being crushed by it.  I know it was selfish, but I left to save myself.’

Hermione pursed her lips.  ‘I…suppose I can understand that.’

She still didn’t necessarily like it, but she could hardly fault her for acting out of self-preservation.  If Narcissa had died or gone mad under the pressure of Lucius and Draco’s needs, they would have been  _ more _ without her than they were when she left, so the result was actually a little more positive.

Narcissa offered another one of those probably-genuine smiles.  ‘Anyway, you’ve done much better with them than I ever could have.’  She nodded toward Lucius.  ‘I never thought anyone could convince him his pureblood dogma was incorrect, let alone convince him to willingly ask a Weasley to dance.’

Hermione shifted uncomfortably.  ‘It’s not me.  He’s just…realising some things.  He feels guilty about what he’s done, but not because I made him.’

The smile grew a little sly.  ‘Perhaps you didn’t make him, my dear, but it’s still because of you.  He wouldn’t have even tried if it hadn’t been for you.’

Hermione didn’t know what to say to that, but fortunately, a bumbling young wizard interrupted to ask if he could have her next available dance, saving her from having to try to dispute that.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

She was able to manage two more dances before her feet started protesting again, and she sat in a different spot.  To her surprise, though, Narcissa wasn’t sitting on the sidelines or dancing with Andrew, as she’d alternated doing all night--Lucius was offering her his arm.  She watched them move onto the dance floor with a choked sort of feeling.  The dance began, and just like that, they were Lucius and Narcissa again.  The divorce, her new husband, the intervening years melted away, and as they twirled and promenaded, Hermione could see the young married couple they had been.

They were a matched pair.  They were both coldly, flawlessly sophisticated, the very embodiment of grace, class and elegance.  They looked beautiful together--perfect.  They blurred together, black and white, Lucius’s chosen colours for most of the house.

There was a terrible, heavy feeling in her chest, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

‘Hermione?  Are you okay?’

Oh, thank every power that existed for Harry.  She clutched at his arm.

‘I think I need some air,’ she choked out, and willed the tears not to fall until she made it outside--where no one else would be, because it was cold.  Where Lucius wouldn’t be, because he wasn’t allowed for another half hour.  Not that he knew that.

She had to stop thinking about him.

Harry helped her out of the ballroom, down the corridor to a side door that opened onto the gardens.  There was a bench, thankfully, and she sank onto it weeping, burying her face in her hands.

Harry crouched down in front of her, putting his hands on her knees.  ‘Hey, what’s wrong?  Are you okay?  What happened?’

She couldn’t say it out loud.  She couldn’t tell him that she’d fallen in love with Lucius.  She didn’t want to say the words, because then they might be true, and then she would have to obliviate herself and move far, far away to escape her own idiocy.  What kind of idiot of a Muggle-born goes and falls in love with  _ Lucius Malfoy _ ?  She hated herself, and she hated Lucius, and she hated Narcissa, and she hated love and feelings, and Draco for dragging her into Lucius’s life.

A small measure of control returned to her, and then another, and she stopped crying.  Slowly, in increments, she mastered herself again.  As the initial rush of emotion faded, she was able to marshal her thoughts as well, and deal with the facts.

Hermione was in love with Lucius.

This wasn’t actually his fault.

He didn’t even need to know about it.

No one needed to know, in fact.

She couldn’t stay for the rest of the party unless she wanted to embarrass herself.

She did not want to embarrass herself more than she already had.

Hermione smiled weakly for Harry’s benefit.  ‘I think I just got overheated and tired myself out,’ she lied, and she had no justification for this one.  ‘I think I’m going to go home.’

‘Are you sure?’ he said, concerned, but he helped her to her feet when she started to rise.

‘Yes, I’m sure.  I need to lie down for a while.’

‘All right then.  Do you want me to see you home?’

She shook her head.  ‘No, you stay and have fun.  I’ll be fine.’

He helped her to the entrance hall anyway, and scooted off to find the wizards who’d taken their cloaks.  Draco and Ginny slid into the entrance hall a moment later, wearing worried frowns.

‘You’re  _ leaving _ ?’ Ginny exclaimed.  ‘But the party’s not even half over!’

Hermione mustered another weak smile.  ‘I need to go lie down, Ginny.’

Draco sputtered.  ‘But you could lie down in one of the guest rooms!  You don’t have to  _ leave _ !’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’  More than they could possibly understand, since she didn’t want to tell anyone about the horrible epiphany she’d had.  ‘I want to lie in my own bed.  I’ll be back on Christmas Eve.’

He pouted unhappily.  ‘ _ Fine _ .’

‘Yeah,  _ fine _ .   _ Be _ that way,’ Ginny agreed with a pout of her own.

Harry arrived with her cloak then, and they exchanged morose agreements that it was extremely unfair and they wished she would stay.  A more genuine smile lifted Hermione’s spirits a bit, and she thought of something.

‘I almost forgot--Draco, can you give this to your father?’ she said, unshrinking the package she’d had in her cloak’s inner pocket and handing it to him.  ‘It’s sort of an early Christmas present from me and Kingsley.’

Draco accepted it hesitantly, frowning in confusion.  ‘From you and Kingsley?’

She breathed out a small chuckle.  ‘You’ll see when he unwraps it.  The scarf is from me, and the pass to access the gardens is from Kingsley.  It activates in about twenty minutes, and lasts until midnight on the twenty-fifth.’

He looked down at the festive package in awe, then back up at her.  ‘A pass to go out in  _ our _ gardens?  But--don’t you want to give it to him yourself?’

Hermione frowned, her heart clenching at the thought of how his eyes would shine….  ‘No.  You can give it to him.  Just make sure he knows the pass is from Kingsley.’

‘I…I will.  Hermione?’

He looked very troubled, so she paused before the fireplace, watching him expectantly.  All three of them looked troubled, actually, and she hoped they didn’t suspect something.

‘You’re sure you won’t stay?’ Draco asked at last, a plaintive note in his voice.

‘I’m sure.  Thank you for inviting me.  I’ll see you in two days.’

She left before they could say anything else.  It was a relief to be standing in her own flat again, and even more of a relief to be out of the gown that she only now realised she’d bought and had designed in the hope that it would catch  _ Lucius’s _ eye, and it hadn’t, so what good was it, and she shouldn’t even be upset about that because she shouldn’t be in love with him.  It was  _ wrong _ .

She got into her most comfortable pyjamas and snuggled up with Crookshanks.  He was a very good listener, and an even better snuggler, and he licked her nose when she cried.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius asked Narcissa to dance with him out of courtesy, and perhaps a bit for old times’ sake.  They had always danced well together--even he could remember that--and it would be nice to have a talented partner after the last witch had stomped all over his feet.  She seemed a little surprised, but she accepted.  It was just as easy with her as it had always been, but he was going through the motions, rather than enjoying himself as he once had when Narcissa was in his arms.

‘You’re looking well,’ Narcissa commented mildly.  ‘Much better than the last time I saw you.’

He snorted.  ‘It is very easy to look better than the last time you saw me--a bath and a shave would about do it.’

She chuckled.  ‘Fair enough.’  There was a pause as he spun her and drew her back in again.  ‘She’s good for you.’

He barely stopped himself from freezing mid-turn, which would have been rather disastrous.

‘Who?’ he said, but he knew exactly who she meant.

‘Hermione,’ Narcissa said patiently, and her raised brow informed him that she knew he was trying to play dumb.  ‘She brings out the best in you.  I haven’t seen you be so kind and polite since--well, ever, if you include the Weasleys, but excluding them, then at least since we were young.  You didn’t even have a snide comment for that last witch I saw trying to break your toes, even though she would have deserved it,’ she added with a somewhat wicked grin.

He hesitated.  ‘Hermione…is very good.  Better than I could ever hope to be.  She thinks of everyone.  She tries to help everyone.  She makes me want to be better when I’m around her, when I think about her,’ he admitted lowly.

Narcissa looked very deeply into his eyes for a moment, and then nodded, refraining from making a comment.  He was relieved.

Not long after, Lucius saw Hermione leave on Harry’s arm, looking flushed and ill, but out of politeness he didn’t ditch Narcissa in the middle of the floor, in the middle of a song.  He waited until the dance was over, but by then, they were nowhere to be found.  Slightly confused, he returned to the ballroom, only to find Draco, Ginny, Potter, and Neville standing in a corner murmuring and frowning.  He made his way over determinedly.

‘Where is Hermione?’ he demanded without preamble.  ‘I saw her leave with you, and she didn’t look well.  Where is she?’

Potter actually looked a  _ little _ intimidated by his vehemence this time, but he took no satisfaction from it.

‘Um, she didn’t feel well.  She went home.  She said she needed to lie down,’ Potter replied, stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out.

‘Oh.’  That took the wind out of his sails a bit.  ‘Did she say what was wrong?’

Draco spoke up this time.  ‘No, but she did leave something for you,’ he said quietly, waving a small, brightly-wrapped package.  ‘An early Christmas present, she said.’

Lucius accepted it when it was handed over, but he suddenly felt very let down and disappointed.  It stung at his eyes, and he did his best to appear coldly indifferent.  He didn’t want a present, he wanted to dance with her--had wanted to all night, in fact.  And now she had gone.  He’d missed his chance.

‘Are you going to open it?’ Neville prompted, and for some reason, the four of them looked at the time.

‘Maybe later,’ Lucius said despondently.

He’d totally and completely blown his opportunity.  When he first approached her, he’d been too nervous, for some reason, to just come out and ask, so he’d tried teasing her instead--except his tone had been all wrong, and instead of teasing, he’d just sounded mean, and she got angry and walked off.  Lucius couldn’t honestly say he blamed her.  Then, before he could get up the nerve to go over and apologise and ask her properly, Neville had asked for a dance, and after everyone had seen how beautiful and graceful and  _ alive _ she was, she’d been swamped with admirers.  He’d been biding his time and hoping to catch her alone between dances, dancing with others in the meantime, but he’d obviously waited too long.

‘Um, I really think you should open it now,’ Ginny said with a nervous edge.  ‘It’s from her and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she probably had a reason for wanting you to have it now, don’t you think?’

He looked between the four of them with raised brows.  ‘Okay, I’ll open it now…?’

They excitedly ushered him back out into the hallway, crowding him a little in their excitement over the gift.  Lucius reluctantly tore at the paper, trying to ignore how they were bouncing up and down around him like over-hyper house elves.  The softest fabric he’d ever felt tumbled out into his fingers, and he couldn’t help but run his hands over it in amazement.  It was sky blue, the exact same shade as the gorgeous gown Hermione had been wearing, although this didn’t shimmer silver when it moved in the light.  He unfolded it and found it to be a scarf, which puzzled him until he picked up the envelope that had fallen to the floor when he unfolded it.

‘ _ Dear Lucius, _

_ Kingsley arranged for you to have a three-day pass to go out into your gardens, starting at eight o’clock tonight and ending at 11.59 on Christmas Day.  The pass is inside this envelope, keep it on you when you go out!  You’ll need this scarf, too--it’s cold out there! _

_ Merry Christmas! _

_ Your friend, _

_ Hermione _ ’

That explained why he had to open it right now.  It was only a few minutes until eight.

Oddly, he did not feel as elated as he might have expected to.  Instead, there was a hollow sort of feeling in his chest, like there was something missing.

Lucius forced a smile as he looked up.  ‘Well.  I’d better go and get a warm cloak.’

There was a flat quality in his voice, despite his best efforts, but none of them noticed.  They practically leapt with joy and excitement, and Draco ran off to get his mother to join them.  Her idiot husband came along, too, and before long, they were all bundled up and headed out to the gardens.

Lucius wrapped the scarf around his neck and felt a little better, inexplicably, as though someone had reached out and put their arms around him, and he thought he got a whiff of mahogany and old books….  But he was imagining things, clearly.

He stepped out into the December chill, and this time, the weight that lifted from his chest made sense.  It was night, so there was no sun on his face, but the twinkle lights were lit, and he breathed the fresh air, strolling in between being pushed and pulled along by the over-eager young adults.  Narcissa and Andrew laughed at their antics; Lucius confined himself to indulging their desire to prance around him like children.

He felt better, but there was still something missing, a cold spot on his arm, on his side, where Hermione ought to have been tucked up against him.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius immediately returned to the outside the next morning, bundled up against the cold, and he stayed out, alternating sitting on a bench and walking the grounds, until Draco came after him to scold him at lunch.

‘You can’t spend hours out there, you’ll freeze to death,’ Draco snapped as he dragged Lucius back inside by the end of the scarf.

Lucius’s teeth were chattering, but he protested anyway.  ‘But I only have today, tomorrow, and the day after that!  I have to enjoy it while I can,’ he stammered out through his uncooperative jaw.

Narcissa and Andrew were still around today, but they very wisely stayed out of the discussion, although Narcissa looked as though she agreed with Draco.

Draco scowled at him.  ‘Listen to yourself!  Your nose is all red and dripping, your lips are blue, and I’m pretty sure your eyelashes have icicles on them.’

He snorted, which caused a rather unpleasant spray of mucus, illustrating Draco’s point.  ‘D-don’t be ridiculous.’

‘ _ I’m _ being ridiculous?!’  Draco sputtered for a moment before throwing up his hands.  ‘I give up.  Come and get warm, Father, we’ll have lunch in the sitting room, next to the fireplace.’

Lucius obeyed, mostly because he couldn’t actually feel his feet, so Draco probably had a point.  He sat close, thawing out rather painfully, and dutifully ate the soup Draco forced on him.  He had to admit he did feel a bit better, but he had no intention of sitting indoors for the rest of the day when there was a piece of paper in his pocket allowing him to be  _ out _ of doors.

Draco sighed, defeated, when Lucius finished eating and immediately began pulling his winter things back on.

‘All right, but I’m coming out there and checking on you every hour.  And after dinner, you can’t go back out again, okay?  It will be too cold and dark by then.’

Lucius pouted.  ‘Yes,  _ Mother _ ,’ he grumbled, which made Narcissa choke back a giggle, and made Draco look pained.

After his new scarf was wrapped securely around his chin, he marched back out into the gardens.  He didn’t care about a little cold.  He cared about being able to see the sun.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius went out again the next morning, but around ten, Draco called out the only thing that could have made him scamper back for the house as fast as he did.

‘Father, Hermione’s here!’ echoed out to where he was loitering around the frozen fountain, and he immediately made a beeline for the house.

He had nearly forgotten that it was Christmas Eve, and she would be coming.  He skidded to a halt, his heart leaping in his chest, as it registered that she was standing in their sitting room again.  She was wearing some of those Muggle ‘lying around the house’ clothes that made her look so comfortable and natural, and her hair was its usual wild self.  He smiled at the very sight of her.

‘Happy Christmas,’ he said breathlessly.  ‘Are you feeling better?’

Hermione smiled back, but he thought her eyes seemed a little shadowed.  ‘Yes, much, thank you.  Happy Christmas to you, too.’  She paused.  ‘Draco tells me you’ve been enjoying your pass?’

‘Very much!’ he said, unable to tamp down his excitement.  ‘Will you thank Kingsley for me?’

‘Yes, I will do that.’

‘And thank you for the scarf,’ he added, a little shyly, unwrapping it from around his neck.  ‘It really is cold out there.’

Her smile became more genuine and her eyes brightened a little.  ‘You’re welcome.’

Draco cleared his throat.  ‘I am still visible, aren’t I?’ he asked sourly.

Lucius glowered at him, but Hermione smoothly cut off any arguments by asking what they wanted to eat.  They migrated to the kitchen, where the two of them talked while Hermione baked and cooked and blended and made all sorts of things that smelled and looked delicious.  The first thing she made was a cup of hot cocoa for each of them, which warmed Lucius through and through.  After that, it was a smorgasbord of comfort food and baked goods.

He also met Crookshanks while Hermione cooked, because the cranky-looking feline came down in search of warmth and tidbits.

Draco nearly leapt off of his stool.  ‘Hermione, tell your deranged animal to keep away from me!’

Hermione rolled her eyes.  ‘He only hissed at you because he was scared.  This is a new place, and he wasn’t ready for you to pet him yet.’

‘Whatever,’ Draco said hotly.  ‘He likes me just fine at  _ your _ house, so the only logical conclusion is that he’s insane.’

Lucius had been letting the flat-faced cat sniff his fingers while this discussion went on, and after a moment, Crookshanks must have decided that he was all right, because he leapt into Lucius’s lap and commandeered it.

Hermione grinned.  ‘Looks like you won’t be going anywhere for a while.  Sorry, Lucius.’

He was unperturbed, stroking the overgrown orange fluffball.  ‘It’s quite all right.’

Crookshanks purred loudly, and Hermione smiled warmly at him.  Draco scoffed and changed the subject, and Hermione turned back to her cooking.

They ate massive mounds of the stuff (and Lucius snuck Crookshanks a morsel or a crumb here and there) for lunch before retiring upstairs.  Crookshanks had vacated Lucius’s lap after he’d had his fill of tidbits and pets in favour of lounging in front of the kitchen fireplace.

They had only been sitting for a few minutes before Lucius became restless.  Draco and Hermione seemed to know exactly why he was fidgeting, but Draco scowled, and Hermione smiled.

‘Would you like to go for a walk?’ she asked kindly.

‘Yes!’ Lucius nearly exploded, and leapt up to get his cloak.

Hermione followed a few minutes later with a  _ very _ reluctant Draco in her wake.

‘But it’s  _ cold _ ,’ he whined.

‘You can stand it for an hour or so,’ she said patiently.  ‘Get your cloak on.’

Draco looked scandalised.  ‘An  _ hour _ ?!  A whole hour?!  We’ll freeze to death!’

‘We will not freeze to death, and you can go in earlier if you like.  Or you can stay behind.’

He pouted immediately.  ‘No, I’ll come.  I just think it’s crazy.’

‘Go get your cloak,’ she said firmly.

He shot her a sullen look and sloped off.  Lucius watched Hermione slide her own gloves and cloak on, an amused expression on her face.

‘You handle him the same way Narcissa does,’ he observed.

She froze for a moment in the act of wrapping her own scarf (a dark green one, he noted) around her neck.

‘Do I?’  Her tone was carefully nonchalant.  ‘I suppose it’s practise from dealing with Harry and Ron.’

He hummed an agreement.  She looked up at him and her expression froze again, for a longer moment this time.  When her face regained its mobility again, he found that he couldn’t quite read it.

‘You look good in the scarf,’ she said casually, not looking at him.  ‘It brings out your eyes.’

Lucius liked the compliment, but wasn’t quite certain what to make of the way she was acting, so he simply said thank you and fell silent.  Anxiety had climbed its way up his throat again as he was reminded of the jumpy, nervous way she’d been acting around him for a long time now.  He hoped this strange, standoffish behaviour wasn’t a method she’d come up with to hide her fear of him, because that would mean she was still afraid of him, underneath, and he didn’t want that.  Hopefully it was something else, something unrelated.  He wished he had the courage to ask, but there was a reason the Hat hadn’t considered him for Gryffindor, he supposed.

Draco returned, or else he’d been replaced by a scarf monster--Lucius wasn’t sure, although the existence of a scarf monster seemed unlikely--and they headed out into the gardens.  His chest loosened immediately, and he drew a long, deep breath of cold, fresh air.  Hermione took his arm when he offered it, and it couldn’t have been more lovely unless Draco had stopped whining about how his nose was already frozen, even though he’d wrapped his whole head in about eight scarves and a hat.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco went inside after the hour was up, but Hermione stayed with Lucius, since he seemed reluctant to go back in.  She cast several Warming Charms on their garments as the time passed so he could stay out longer without either of them succumbing to the cold or getting frostbite.  He didn’t mention it, but he shot her several of those warm, worshipful looks that made her heart ache, so she knew he’d noticed.

After a while, he led her over to a bench near the frozen fountain and they sat.  She cast a Warming Charm on the bench because it was making her bum go numb almost immediately.

‘We can go in, if you’re too cold,’ he said lowly.

She hugged his arm a little tighter.  ‘No.  Enjoy it, please.  I’ll tell you if I’m getting hypothermic,’ she added teasingly.

He looked down at her warmly again.  ‘I suppose we’ll have to go in and eat supper eventually, won’t we?’

‘Eventually,’ she agreed.  ‘When it starts getting dark, I think.’

He smiled and looked out over the grounds.  She tried not to jerk away or tense when he reached up and squeezed her wrist gently.  Their breath misted on the air and the time continued to pass.

This was both sweet bliss and torture for Hermione.  She’d been struggling to maintain some distance between them ever since she arrived, but it was too hard now that Lucius’s frosty, arrogant demeanour had melted away and he was once again the man she’d grown to care for.  His eyes had been full of hurt confusion every time she backed away or said something in an indifferent tone, and it tugged at her heartstrings to see it.

But allowing him to be close to her was dangerously tempting, and she knew that she would have to keep her guard up  _ much _ more diligently than she had before.  Lucius just needed a friend, and she had to be careful not to read any more into anything he did than that--and she needed to be mindful to keep her own behaviour within the bounds of friendship, more than anything.

It was too cloudy to watch the sunset, but as soon as they lost sight of the hedges on the other side of the fountain, Lucius finally stood.

‘I suppose it’s that time,’ he said, helping her to her feet.  ‘I  _ am _ hungry.’

Hermione smiled.  ‘And I’m sure Draco is fit to be tied.’

He snorted and agreed--but when they came back into the house and took off their gloves and things, he steered her to the sitting room instead of the kitchen.

‘Lucius, what are we--’

She broke off, staring.  She’d been set up.  Draco had purposely been whining so it wouldn’t seem suspicious when he went back in the house and put up everything.  ‘Everything’ being, in this case, a tray of cinnamon rolls, hot cocoa, Christmas biscuits, and a large quilt that she was fairly certain they’d borrowed from the Weasleys, and--and a white screen and a projector.  Draco stood with his hands clasped behind his back, grinning expectantly.  Lucius was watching her with nervous anticipation.

It was the nicest, most beautiful trick she’d ever fallen for.

She promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around Lucius’s neck.

He chuckled in her ear, patting her back.  ‘Happy Christmas, Hermione,’ he said.

Draco hugged her from behind.  ‘Happy Christmas, Hermione!  We know it won’t make up for not having your parents, but--’

Hermione pulled away, sniffling and shaking her head, wiping at her eyes.  ‘It’s wonderful.  It’s the most wonderful thing that anyone’s ever done for me,’ she said in a wobbly voice.  ‘I think you’re both secretly great big huggable marshmallows inside.’

‘Hmm,’ said Lucius, smiling.  ‘You do understand we’ll have to kill you if you tell anyone?’

She grinned up at him.  ‘Of course.’

There was definitely no hope for it now--she was completely, totally, head-over-heels, heart-stoppingly in love with Lucius, and he had just unknowingly sealed it for life.

‘So, who wants to watch a sappy musical about singing little girls?’ Draco asked brightly.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco fell asleep halfway through, but Lucius stayed awake through the whole thing, despite her cuddling up to him underneath the quilt, and he actually seemed interested.  Although, she did note that he winced during the cuter songs, like ‘So Long, Farewell’--but she couldn’t fault him for that, not when they had to nudge Draco several times to get him to stop snoring.  As for herself, she enjoyed  _ The Sound of Music _ just as much as she always did, if not more because of the special circumstances surrounding this viewing.

Lucius had divulged that Harry helped them transfer the tape, and she made a mental note to send him the biggest box of chocolates that Honeyduke’s carried.  She was surrounded by loving, wonderful people, and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

‘I like those nuns,’ Lucius commented after the film was over.  ‘I think they might be the best part.’

She smiled, tapping the projector with her wand to turn it off.  ‘Somehow, I’m not surprised that you like them and their little sneak attack.  What else did you like?’

He thought for a moment, his expression turning rather solemn.  She wasn’t sure why her question had caused that and watched him carefully, concerned that he was thinking dark thoughts again.

‘I liked the dance,’ he said at last, looking at her a little sadly.

Hermione still wasn’t sure why he seemed upset all of a sudden.  ‘Uh, yes, the dance is quite lovely.  I learned it for my ballroom dancing class, when I was a little girl.  It was always one of my favourites.’

He hesitated.  ‘I…wanted to ask you….’

She waited, her brow wrinkling.

Lucius took a deep breath.  ‘I wanted to ask you to dance with me, the night of the party, but…I wasn’t certain you would wish to be seen with me in public.  And then by the time I decided to ask you anyway, you’d gone home….’

She stared at him.  ‘Is  _ that _ why you were so cold to me?’ she blurted before she could stop herself.

She’d considered various ideas about why Lucius had seemed so cold and distant, including that he didn’t want to be seen by his fellow rich pureblood wizards as being too chummy with a Mudblood, or that a single witch he particularly liked would be there and he didn’t want her to think he and Hermione were an item, or that it was just the way he was in public.  It had never occurred to her that Lucius might have been thinking of  _ her _ and  _ her _ reputation, if she was seen to be close with a convicted Death Eater.  She would have been ashamed of thinking so uncharitably of him if she hadn’t been so overwhelmed with relief, and so touched that he had been thinking of her welfare.

He reddened.  ‘Partly,’ he admitted.  ‘And partly because I was rather nervous.’

Hermione smiled.  ‘ _ You _ ?  Nervous?  I don’t believe it.  Malfoys don’t  _ get _ nervous,’ she teased.

She felt him relax, the muscles in the arm she was leaning against loosening.

‘Well, naturally, we don’t  _ show _ it, but it’s been known to happen, every decade or so,’ he joked easily.

Her smile widened, but she didn’t further the joke.  She was debating whether or not it would be safe and within the bounds of friendship to offer to dance with him now.  The very thought made her heart flutter in her chest, and she was desperately tempted to ask, to know how it felt to be in his arms….

Lucius removed the choice from her.  He looked deeply into her eyes until she thought he could read into her very soul, lightly brushing a finger across her chin, and spoke so softly that she felt it more than she heard it.

‘Hermione, will you please dance with me?’

She was not strong enough to refuse him.

When Draco woke up from his nap several hours later (joined by Crookshanks, who’d decided his stomach was a very comfortable location), she and Lucius were still waltzing gracefully, unaware of the passage of time or the existence of anything else.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The rest of Hermione’s stay passed much too quickly for Lucius.  On Christmas Day, they exchanged gifts and ate far too many chocolates.  Hermione had nearly cried again when he gave her the gift he’d chosen--it was a nearly-limitless bookbag in which she could carry her entire library, and which logged every book she owned, as well as which ones were currently out of the bag and if they were in someone else’s possession.  He rather thought it was far superior to the insipid gifts she’d received from her other friends, and she must have thought so, too, because she carried it with her for the rest of that day and the next.

He was touched by her gift, too--or, more correctly, her gifts, plural.  She had given him the other two textbooks she’d written, as well as a book about Muggle electronics that went into  _ much  _ greater detail than any of the books he already owned.

Much of Christmas Day was spent outside, since it was the last day Lucius could do so, and Draco managed to keep his whining about the cold to a minimum, now that he didn’t have an excuse to play it up.  Lucius was grateful for that, and he was also grateful that Hermione showed no signs of the indifference or standoffishness she’d displayed the day before.  She seemed content to be close to him, and though she was very quiet, it was enough for him, too.

On Boxing Day, he couldn’t be outside anymore, which dampened his good mood more than a little.  Hermione came to the rescue again, though, by making even more mounds of delicious food that he couldn’t bring himself to pass up.  She also found a distraction that kept him from sulking at the windows--she had brought along Monopoly again, which he and Draco had both enjoyed immensely the last time, and they spent most of the day playing it.  They ground Hermione into submission with their buying strategies and hotel-building, but she just laughed and snuggled her cat, content to watch them try to bankrupt each other.  Lucius won, barely, but he smugly pretended he’d expected such an outcome all along, which made Draco pout and Hermione giggle.

That evening, though, it was time for Hermione to go home.  Draco bade her a quick but fond farewell; it was harder for Lucius.

‘Are you sure you can’t stay a few more days?’ he asked plaintively, giving her the saddest look he could.

Hermione sighed.  ‘I would love to, but I have some things I have to do.  Besides, Crookshanks is about ready to ditch me for you, and I can’t have that,’ she added with a gentle, teasing smile.

The cranky half-Kneazle  _ had _ seemed rather fond of him, spending nearly as much time in his lap as Hermione’s.  And he was fond of the scruffy creature, too, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone--at least not willingly.

‘You’ll come for New Year’s Day?’ he pressed, since he couldn’t convince her to not leave at all.

Her smile widened.  ‘If you’d like.’

‘I would like,’ Lucius insisted firmly.

‘All right, then, it’s a date,’ she said, and then for some reason, she looked away, her smile fading.

She reached for the Floo powder with a mumbled goodbye, and he realised she meant to leave without giving him a kiss--just when he’d been growing rather attached to them.  He grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

‘Hermione.’

She turned, brow furrowing, and he seized his opportunity, expertly placing a light kiss just below her cheekbone.  Her face turned very, very red.

‘Thank you for everything, Hermione,’ he breathed before releasing her and stepping back.

She stared at him with very wide eyes for a moment, and then was gone.


	15. Azkaban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione reads the records of Lucius's time in Azkaban. Lucius's nightmares continue to escalate, and Draco has a confession of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everyone, this one's really rough. I ran poor Lucius through the wringer. But, on the plus side, you find out most of what happened while he was in Azkaban, so there's that. It's just that none of it was good. I'm rambling because I'm a bit nervous about this one, to be perfectly honest. It was really hard to get out, and I'm still not really happy with it, but there comes a point when you've got to stop editing before you go crazy.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! :) As always, thank you to everyone for reading, and especially big thank you to everyone who left comments. I wish I could give you cookies, because you deserve them. ;)

Hermione had been avoiding the packet since the Weasleys’ party.  Every time she thought about it, she remembered what Kingsley had said and felt sick to her stomach.  It was much easier to think of Christmas Eve, now, of Lucius’s strong hand resting lightly on her waist, the other cradling hers delicately, his steady, graceful guidance, the intensity of his eyes, his breath on her neck….

She shook her head of the memory for the fiftieth time.  She’d told herself one dance and ended up in his arms for a couple of hours, until Draco woke and interrupted them.  She was simultaneously ashamed of her lack of self-control and breathless with a longing for more--but all she could do was treasure the memory, wrapping it carefully and holding it close.

_ And _ she could read this packet of records, as she should’ve done four days ago.

Steeling herself, Hermione curled up in her favourite chair and opened it to the first page.  Most of the first section of the packet was the usual bureaucratic nonsense, but there were actual pieces of information here and there for anyone patient enough to sift them out.

Hermione was patient.

Pickett’s arrest report was concise and brief, and more notable for what it  _ didn’t _ contain than for what it did.

_ ‘Suspect was discovered unconscious in Department of Mysteries shortly after hostilities had ceased.  Suspect was clothed in common Death Eater accoutrements.  Suspect remained unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli while in apprehending officer’s custody.  Suspect was placed in Ministry holding cell and transferred to custody of Auror Ballard.’ _

In other words, Lucius was out cold, but he was dressed like a Death Eater, so into a holding cell he went.  Even knowing how she’d felt then, how frightened she’d been of Lucius, how much she’d hated him and everything he stood for, she didn’t think she would have had it in her to treat him so callously.  She’d already known Pickett hadn’t bothered to get him any medical treatment, but she still felt a flash of anger at how unapologetic Pickett had been about it.  He hadn’t even tried to lie in his report, despite the fact that his failure to fetch a healer or take Lucius to St Mungo’s was a major breach of protocol.  Although, Kingsley had told her at the Malfoys’ party that Pickett was still with the Auror Department and he hadn’t found any record of Pickett receiving any kind of censure or discipline at the time, so Pickett had apparently been correct.

Auror Ballard’s report was longer, but no less concise.

_ ‘22.03:  Logged suspect Lucius Malfoy into cell 131C.  Suspect Malfoy was not conscious. _

_ 23.00:  Suspect Malfoy still unconscious. _

_ 23.30:  Suspect Malfoy regained consciousness.  Suspect seemed confused. _

_ 24.00:  Suspect complained of pain in neck, head, hip, and arm. _

_ 24.30:  Suspect continued to complain of pain.’ _

This last line was repeated every half hour, when Ballard evidently checked on Lucius.  There was no change until late morning the next day.  She felt another searing flash of anger at the lack of a trial, but then, none of the Death Eaters arrested from the time of Sirius Black on had been given trials--at least until the end of the war, when Harry demanded trials for  _ all _ Death Eaters and suspected Death Eaters, including those who were already in Azkaban.  That made it more general anger at the cold injustice of the supposed ‘good guys’ than indignation for Lucius specifically.

_ ‘7.23:  Transferred Suspect Malfoy into Azkaban Guard Cooper and Azkaban Guard Porter’s custody.  Cell 131C empty.’ _

She hoped Kingsley was looking into Ballard, too.  There was something wrong with a man who could listen to someone in pain for seven hours and remain so clinically unmoved.

The Ministry records ended and the Azkaban records began.  The bureaucratic nonsense dropped off sharply.  Hermione noted that there were three names that appeared with the most frequency beside each log entry--Cooper, Porter, and the supervisor, Galloway.  There were a few other names sprinkled throughout, but none of them appeared more than twice.  The very first entry was by Galloway, and it was so instantaneously infuriating that Hermione’s hands shook and she ground her teeth until they creaked under the strain.

_ ‘Prisoner Lucius Malfoy processed, assigned to cell.  Prisoner uncommunicative.  Upon examination, Malfoy suffering from multiple injuries--concussion (minor?), neck sprain/whiplash, sprained wrist, broken arm, hip injury (indeterminate, probably bruised), possibly broken jaw, multiple contusions of varying severity.  Tended to.’ _

Yes, sure.  ‘Tended to.’  Hermione snorted.  Stuffing him in an old neck brace and wrapping him in some rags was not the same as actually tending him.  Also, in Ballard’s entries, Lucius hadn’t been silent or ‘uncommunicative,’ he’d been complaining, specifically about his neck, head, hip, and arm.  When had he picked up the broken jaw and bruising, and when had his other arm been injured?  She had a sneaking suspicion they happened while he was in transit, or possibly during the incredibly vague ‘processing.’

His jaw wasn’t  _ possibly _ broken, either, it  _ was _ broken, as the next few weeks of entries proved.

_ ‘Prisoner Malfoy remains silent and does not eat solid food,’ _ was the major theme of those weeks.  While it was possible he was just sulking or depressed, she was certain that he hadn’t been broken at that point, and more than likely would have had something to say if he could have moved his jaw, even if it was only to demand to speak with his solicitor.

She was proved right in the fifth week of entries.

_ ‘Prisoner Malfoy requested to speak with his solicitor.  Request denied.  Prisoner Malfoy requested visitation with wife and son.  Request denied.’ _

As he regained strength from his injuries healing, Lucius began to incur punishments--or at least, punishments that were deserved enough for the guards to feel safe about recording them.  She had no doubt that they hadn’t let him alone while he was healing, either, but since he had no strength to do anything but lie there, they couldn’t justify it.  Now they could, because Lucius in the beginning was arrogant and defiant and full of life and fire.

He demanded to be released; he demanded to see his solicitor and his family; he demanded increased food rations.  He threw things at the guards; he screamed profanities and insults at them; he wandlessly cast irritating little jinxes their way; he refused to follow their orders.

Their responses were often disproportionate to the crime, but they were always cruel and effective.  When he demanded more, better-quality food, they starved him--after two days, he stopped asking for  _ more _ food, just begging to be fed at all.  When he threw things and cast wandless jinxes, they added more chains to the existing ones until he was completely immobile and left him that way--after a day and a half, he begged to be let loose and promised not to throw anything or do any spells, if only they would unchain him.  When he screamed at them, they cursed his mouth shut for three days, not even releasing it so he could eat or drink--when they finally let him open his mouth again, he apologised and begged for water.  When he wouldn’t follow their orders, they brought a Dementor into his cell with them to convince him.  He began obeying very shortly after that.

And that was only what they  _ were _ willing to write down.  Kingsley was right, even  _ this  _ was horrifying enough.

By the end of the summer, Lucius had reformed much of his behaviour, and the justifications for the various ‘punishments’ they fashioned grew thinner and thinner.  He stopped asking to be released or to see his solicitor, but he never stopped asking after Narcissa and Draco, not even when the guards told him he would never be allowed any visitors and put a ‘compulsion’ charm on him (they would never admit to using the  Imperius , but that was much more likely, given how strong-minded Lucius was) that made him lick the walls and floor for three hours.  The only effect was that he stubbornly switched from asking to see them to asking to be allowed to write to them.  This request was also denied, and they put him on chamber pot duty for his section for the next month.  He kept asking anyway.

Hermione read on, watching the slow process of Lucius’s breaking with horror and sorrow.  Much of it she gleaned between the lines, from the fact that they ran out of excuses and just started putting ‘misbehaviour’ when they decided to harass him or starve him or humiliate him.  His arrogance was gone by the end of the summer; his pride was gone by the end of autumn.  Any shred of confidence was a casualty somewhere along the way.

Even so, he clung to his family with a tenacity that surprised, touched and impressed her.  Even in the early winter, when they had utterly broken him, when he was gutted by Dementors, he still asked every day (well, every day that he was able to speak) if  _ today _ he could please write to his wife and son.  By late winter, he had given that up, but he still begged, day after day, for even a small scrap of news of Draco--was he all right?  Was he alive?  His questions were answered only with more punishment, but he persisted, against all reason.

Their responses were way out of proportion even compared to the early days by this point.  There was the incident Kingsley had mentioned, and an entire week when they froze Lucius’s legs and made him crawl.  For two days, they took his clothes away and hung him by the wrists in the courtyard during the hour he and the other prisoners were meant to be exercising--the notes said they allowed the other prisoners to ‘do as they would,’ with no explanation as to what that meant.  Hermione’s imagination failed her after supplying her with a visual of Lucius cold and alone and helpless, and she was left with a general sick feeling that she could only hope was worse than whatever the other prisoners had actually done to him.

When she came to the spring entries, Hermione discovered why drowning featured so prominently in Lucius’s nightmares about Azkaban--he very nearly  _ had _ drowned.  His cell was in one of the lowest levels, below the level of the sea surrounding the prison, and in March, a bad storm had broken through a sea wall.  Water had rapidly begun to fill the five lowest levels, forcing the guards to evacuate the prisoners to cells above, doubling up some cells.  Cooper and Porter were again assigned to Lucius’s section; they evacuated everyone else on that level first, leaving Lucius for last.  Cooper reported having to use the Bubble-Head Charm to retrieve him.  Lucius was not yet unconscious, but the water had risen beyond the highest he could swim, since his wrists were always chained to the wall when he was in his cell.  He’d had time to contemplate the rising water, and the limits of his chains.  He’d had time to yell for help, and to realise no one was coming--to take a deep breath, hoping against hope--to feel the water closing over his head.

Hermione dropped the packet and put her hands over her face, trembling.  She was fighting the urge to go to him, to fly to his side and wrap herself around him, assuring him and herself that he was all right now.  To breathe him in and promise that she would never,  _ never _ let anyone hurt him again.

Eventually, she felt more in control.  The fierce protectiveness hadn’t faded, but she felt she could read on without leaping up and running to Lucius--or to his former jailers, to do something she would most definitely regret.

The lower levels remained flooded for a week, and Lucius was in the same cell as a rather fanatical Death Eater named Booridge, who’d been killed early on in the war, if Hermione recalled correctly.  The notes were dry and severely uninformative, as always, but she got the idea--Booridge had taken Lucius’s failure to retrieve the prophecy for Voldemort very personally, and had made his displeasure known physically, presumably lacking the intelligence to express it verbally.  Apparently, this was possible because Booridge’s chains ‘malfunctioned,’ allowing him free roam of the cell, and they simply hadn’t got around to fixing them.  Lucius was ‘tended to’ again.

There was still a foot of icy seawater in his cell when they returned him to it, but Hermione imagined that Lucius was relieved anyway.  Although, it was also an unpleasant reminder of his near-drowning, so it was really a toss-up.

The rest of March and April was full of starvation and humiliation, but no more brushes with death, thankfully.  He was released at the end of May, and there the packet ended.

Hermione set it down on the coffee table and lay back, staring at the ceiling, flexing her fingers and toes.  She knew, no.  Still not the whole story, but…she knew.  She knew why even at his most arrogant, there was a hint of uncertainty, a chink in the armour that she had seen even when she hadn’t really known him--the arrogance was fake, now.  It had been real, before Azkaban, but now it was a mask, a defence mechanism he pulled close to try to hide his vulnerability.  And he was, so very, very vulnerable.  She knew why he’d cast aside his notions about blood status and reached for her friendship with both hands--after everything he’d been through in Azkaban, and everything that followed, to be treated with courtesy and respect by someone,  _ anyone _ , must have been like a cool drink of water after years in a desert.

Kingsley was right; even without the rumours, there was more than enough here to get exactly what she wanted for Lucius.  She would write up a proposal tomorrow and present it to Kingsley the day after New Year’s.

For now, she was too exhausted.  It was early evening, but she took a shower and prepared for bed anyway.  She needed to sleep, and if she didn’t do that, she knew she would head directly to Malfoy Manor, straight to Lucius, and once there, she would probably wrap her arms around him and never, ever let go.  She doubted he’d appreciate that, so she went to bed instead.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was having a lovely but frustrating dream.  The kiss that Lucius had planted on her cheek, the kiss that still burned there despite her attempts to ignore it, had turned more heated than it had in real life.  Lucius’s lips moved to her mouth, her lips parting to meet him, tasting each other, her body coming alive with the anticipation of pleasure.  But as she reached for him, she found that no matter how many buttons she undid, there were always more underneath, until she was afraid that he would shrink away to nothing.  Still, his hands were going to very interesting places, places that made her hips rock, and she was just starting to solve the mystery of the endless layers, she thought, when things got weird.  Draco’s voice horned in, shouting her name, and that wasn’t right.  She pulled away from the kiss and blinked.

When she opened her eyes, she was in her bedroom.  Draco really was shouting her name, though, and he sounded quite frantic.

‘Just a minute!  Come on through!’ she shouted back.

She leapt out of bed, throwing on her dressing gown as she heard the Floo flare.  She stepped into the bathroom and quickly splashed some cold water on her beet-red face before she went out to the living room.  Draco was in his pyjamas and dressing gown, too, pacing agitatedly until he spotted her entrance.

‘You have to come with me,’ he said urgently, his face twisted with distress.  ‘Father’s having the nightmare to end all nightmares, and I can’t wake him.’

Hermione seized his arm and dragged him back through the Floo, the fierce protective feeling she’d gone to sleep with roaring back as memory returned.  As soon as they stepped into the entrance hall, a blast of sound assailed them.  It was the noise she least wanted to hear in all the world--Lucius was screaming, long, high-pitched shrieks that sent an icy chill straight to her middle, thoroughly banishing the last tendrils of heat from her dream.  Draco spoke as they sprinted toward Lucius’s room.

‘He didn’t have any nightmares while you were here,’ he panted.  ‘And last night he couldn’t sleep.’

She nodded and skidded to a halt at Lucius’s open door.  She hadn’t thought about it, but now that Draco mentioned it, she realised that it was true--she’d been just down the hall and she hadn’t heard a sound while she was staying for Christmas.

Now, though, Lucius took a breath and let out another ear-piercing scream, gripping his head in both hands, curled up in a tight ball against whatever terror he was seeing in his dream.  Hermione climbed onto the bed and pulled him up against her, wrapping her arms around his quivering, tightly-wound frame without hesitation.  He stopped screaming the moment she touched him, but he didn’t waken and he continued to tremble.

She rocked him, murmuring a few soothing words, and when that didn’t work, even though she wasn’t much of a singer, she sang a lullaby she dimly remembered her mother singing to her when she was frightened as a very small child.  Slowly, Lucius relaxed, releasing his head from the wild grip he’d had on it and loosening out of the ball to melt into her embrace instead, resting his head on her shoulder.  He still didn’t appear to be awake, but at least he was calm now.  She finished the song and lightly brushed her lips against his forehead.

His eyelids fluttered.  ‘Hermione?’

‘I’m here,’ she murmured in his ear.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a weak smile, and he twisted his fingers in the loose material of her dressing gown.  She kept rocking him until he seemed to settle into sleep again.  Draco was standing awkwardly by the door, but he sprang over to help her when she met his eyes and nodded toward the bed.  They gently laid Lucius down, tucking him in and prying her dressing gown out of his hand with equal care.  He sighed, frowning a little in his sleep, but otherwise didn’t stir.

Technically, her job here was done, but Hermione lingered, worry and that fierce, loving protectiveness keeping her at his side.  Her gaze wandered around the room; Draco had lit a candle, probably when he came to try to wake Lucius himself, but there was no other light.  The fireplace was blocked up.  It was a pitch-black night, too cloudy for the moon, and she realised suddenly that she was cold.  A shiver passed over her as she thought of how dark it would be without the candle, as dark as a windowless underground cell….

‘It’s too dark and cold in here,’ she said softly.  ‘It probably reminds him….  You should have the house elves unblock his fireplace and put it back into use.  If he had a fire, it would warm the room, and he would always have some light.’

‘Tomorrow,’ Draco agreed quickly.  ‘First thing.  Consider it done.’

She nodded absently.  She was watching Lucius breathe, how he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth so that his lips parted and he made a soft little ‘puff’ sound on each exhale.

‘I’m staying for tonight,’ she decided aloud.  ‘He shouldn’t be alone.’

Draco didn’t argue.  ‘If you need anything, I’m two doors down, on the left.’

‘I remember.’

He grimaced at the reminder of his twin-induced drunkenness and excused himself, quietly thanking her for her help.

Hermione lit another candle and drew one of the cushy armchairs up to Lucius’s bedside, curling up in it.  After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and took his hand in hers.  Lucius’s features smoothed and he sighed contentedly.  She smiled and settled in to watch over him.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius felt completely safe when he woke the next morning.  It was such a unique feeling that he was actually startled to realise it--it had been a long, long time since he hadn’t felt a constant, thrumming undercurrent of fear during his every conscious moment, long enough that he couldn’t remember  _ not _ feeling it, and it unnerved him with its absence.  Being a sensible man (usually), he sought an explanation for this sudden feeling of safety, and that was when he realised that there was a slim, warm hand clasped in his own.

He knew it was Hermione before he even opened his eyes.

She was curled up in a chair beside him, her head tilted back and lolled to one side, her curls fanned across her shoulders and the chair, leaving her neck bare.  The morning light spilled across her, casting her hair in a golden glow; her pink dressing gown; her delicate lashes over her closed eyes; her pink, perfect lips, pursed in a slight frown.  Her brow furrowed slightly and she shifted, drawing his attention to her wand, loosely held in her free hand, but still he was unafraid.  He could have laid there and looked at her all day, she looked so beautiful and peaceful--his friend, his protector.

For his strangely twisted nightmare now made so much more sense.  It had started out fairly normally until the Dark Lord arrived, hissing that drowning and crushing were too good for Lucius.  The Dementor had been allowed to remain, frighteningly near, sapping all the warmth from the cell, which went pitch-black just before the Dark Lord began to ‘discipline’ Lucius.  He’d been deaf to anything but his own screams, giving himself over to the pain and terror--but then the pain had gone, dispelled by a warm, golden light, much like the morning sun that bathed Hermione now, a light which grew and grew until the Dark Lord was gone, the Dementor was gone, the cell itself was gone, and Lucius was alone in a warm embrace that smelled of mahogany and old books.  He could hear a familiar, melodious voice singing, felt a light kiss on his forehead.

‘Hermione?’ he had called, tentatively, in case this was a trick.

‘I’m here,’ she had responded, and his terror was gone as well.  She was here, she had saved him, and he had felt safe in going back to sleep, with her here to protect him.

Lucius sighed contentedly at this proof that--for once--he’d made the right decision.  He could trust Hermione, always.  Do-gooding Gryffindor that she was, she would never abandon him.  And he didn’t know how, but somehow, she’d banished the nightmare and kept it from returning.  He probably wouldn’t be able to convince her to come and watch over his sleep every night, but he wistfully entertained the notion for a few moments anyway.  He hadn’t felt this rested since before Azkaban, and he wouldn’t at all mind waking up to her every morning.

Hermione stirred with a soft moan, her wand clattering to the floor as she arched, wincing against the sun in her eyes.  He watched her rub her eyes and sit up a little, but she didn’t release his hand.  She squinted at him blearily.

‘Lucius?’ she mumbled.

‘I’m here,’ he said with a fond smile, squeezing her hand.

She smiled reflexively and stretched, still obviously puzzling everything out.  She yawned so hugely that he couldn’t help a chuckle.

‘Sorry,’ she said fuzzily, unsteadily getting to her feet.

He reluctantly let her hand slide from his grasp and followed her example, throwing back the blankets and swinging his feet to the floor.  The stone floor was chilly, but, as usual, his slippers were missing.  On the rare occasions that he could locate them, he wore them around the house and then, once his feet got warm, kicked them off and nudged them under whatever he happened to be sitting or lying on, and promptly forgot about them, whereupon they would be lost again until a cleaning house elf chanced upon them and returned them to his bedroom.  It was a childish habit he’d had for as long as he could remember, and Lucius was equal parts bemused and ashamed of his seeming inability to break it.

He shook the thoughts away and resigned himself to going barefoot again.  At least he wouldn’t be alone--Hermione was barefoot, too.

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ he assured her, standing and stretching.  ‘On the contrary, I believe I owe you a rather large thank-you.’

Hermione dismissed this immediately, seeming more awake by the minute now.

‘It was nothing,’ she said easily.  ‘We all need a little help with nightmares sometimes.’

Lucius frowned, and would have asked what nightmares she was experiencing (and a tiny, jealous part of him wanted to know who was helping  _ her _ , and more importantly,  _ how _ ), but she changed the subject.

‘I’d better go,’ she sighed, re-tying her dressing gown’s sash.  ‘I have a lot I need to accomplish today.’

Well, he had to stop  _ that _ from happening, or at least delay it for as long as possible.  He hated it when she left.

‘At least have breakfast with Draco and me,’ he said quickly.  ‘Feeding you is the least we can do to apologise for disturbing your sleep.’

Hermione turned back toward him and smiled, and she was still glowing in the radiant morning light, and he couldn’t breathe for a moment.

‘In my pyjamas?’ she asked, laughing.

He smiled impishly.  ‘I won’t dress, either.  Then Draco will be  _ over _ dressed,’ he added rather mischievously as he pulled on his own dressing gown.

A bright peal of laughter bubbled out of her.

‘Well, all right, then,’ she said, grinning and her eyes twinkling.  ‘As long as I’m not alone.’

‘Never,’ he said, with a little more vehemence than he’d intended.

Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice, turning toward the door.  Lucius was about to follow when he spied something on the floor.

‘Oh!  Hermione, you forgot your--’

He stopped mid-sentence, frozen in the act of reaching for the wand on the floor.  A second of temptation passed.  With an effort, he straightened and backed away, both hands raised and open.  He didn’t look at her.

‘Well, that was stupid of me,’ she said sheepishly.

He watched her retrieve and pocket her wand and maintained his position, every muscle tensed.

‘I didn’t touch it,’ he blurted when she turned toward him, keeping his eyes down.

‘I know you didn’t,’ she said, clearly perplexed.

He slowly lowered his hands, releasing a shaky breath.  He still couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze.  He’d been so content that he’d almost forgotten himself.

Hermione paused, and then padded over to stand in front of him.  A gentle hand at his jaw persuaded him to lift his gaze from the floor--he found only warmth and patience in her face.

‘I’m not about to report you for trying to return something to me,’ she said firmly but kindly.

He trembled.  ‘It wasn’t just “something.”  It was  _ your wand _ .  I’m not supposed to touch--’

‘And you didn’t.  There’s nothing to report, Lucius.’

He searched her expression.  ‘But what if I  _ had _ ?’

Her lips quirked with amusement.  ‘I don’t think my wand would agree with you.  Ron accidentally touched it once and got burnt for his trouble.  I’ll bet you would’ve dropped it pretty quickly.’  She turned serious again.  ‘And even if my wand had let you touch it, you were picking it up to hand it to me, because I dropped it and forgot it.  It could just as easily have been a quill, or a book.  There still would’ve been nothing to report.’

Lucius was slowly relaxing despite himself.  ‘How do you know I wouldn’t have tried to use it, or keep it?’ he asked warily.

She smiled, brushing her thumb across his cheek before letting her hand drop.  ‘I have faith in you,’ she said simply.  ‘Are you still hungry?’

Actually…he was, now.  The cloud passed, just like that.

He smiled.  ‘Lead on.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Draco seemed genuinely shocked by his father’s animation and (slightly mischievous) good humour during breakfast.  Hermione couldn’t help but agree--it  _ was _ surprising to see Lucius so full of vim and vigour after such a horrible, rattling nightmare.  Usually, it took him several days to recover his spirits and composure after a particularly bad night.  This time, he was even more cheerful and energetic than he’d been the day before, according to Draco.

‘It’s remarkable,’ he said with frank astonishment after Lucius had reluctantly gone upstairs to bathe and dress.  He had pouted significantly, and made Hermione promise not to leave without saying good-bye before he finally agreed.  He had also stuck his tongue out at Draco when Draco wasn’t looking, seeming to take Draco’s treating him like a child as permission to act like one.  Hermione had hidden her giggle with a cough.

Of course, Draco had only insisted on sending him away so he and Hermione could have a moment alone, to discuss what she’d read.  Lucius had shown no signs of leaving Hermione’s side voluntarily, so he’d had to play tyrant again.  He put up privacy charms as soon as Lucius was up the stairs.

‘It is,’ she agreed mildly.

‘It makes me tempted to grab you every time he has a nightmare.’  He heaved a sigh.  ‘Unfortunately, that would mean dragging you here every night.  What did you find out from the records?  What kind of case have we got?’

She quickly summarised.  Lucius wouldn’t be gone  _ that _ long.

‘Our case is strong,’ she concluded.  ‘I don’t think we could get him out of having to serve probation at all, but I think we could severely reduce the restrictions on him.  I’m going to draught a proposal today.’

Draco nodded firmly.  ‘Good.’

She hesitated.  ‘Would…you like to read the records yourself?’

His expression darkened.  ‘No, I…I trust your judgment.’  He swallowed and stared at the doorway.  ‘I think it would only make me feel  _ more _ guilty.’

Hermione frowned.  ‘More guilty?’

‘Guilt _ ier _ , whatever.’

‘No, I meant--what do you feel guilty about?’

His lips trembled.  ‘It’s just, I-I can never seem to help Father.  I couldn’t help with the nightmare last night, I couldn’t--couldn’t bring myself to kill Dumbledore so the Dark Lord would like us again and get Father out of Azkaban.’  Draco took a steadying breath, rubbing at his wet, red-rimmed eyes.  ‘And some part of him is afraid of me, or he wouldn’t flinch when I get my wand out, and--I couldn’t help him after you lot escaped with Dobby.’

Hermione’s gaze sharpened, her fingers clenching around the armrests.  ‘Why did he need your help after we escaped?’ she asked in a strangled voice, but she already knew the answer.

He sniffled.  ‘The Dark Lord wasn’t pleased,’ he said, confirming her thought.  ‘He tortured Bellatrix for an hour, and then Father.’  He swallowed with difficulty, his eyes wide with remembered fear.  ‘And-and then he turned his wand on Mother and me.  Father begged him not to hurt us, and--I was so afraid--and Father volunteered to take our punishments, too.  The Dark Lord said fine, it didn’t matter to him, and he tortured Father for another two hours--one for Mother, and one for me.  Mother told me to go to my room, so I wouldn’t have to see or-or hear.  And I did.  I went to my room and put a pillow over my ears.’

Hermione reached out, trembling, and touched Draco’s arm, but she couldn’t speak.  Her throat was clogged with sorrow for all three then-Malfoys, and hatred for Voldemort, and guilt that she and her friends doing what was necessary had caused their family to suffer.

‘Father was bedridden for a day after that,’ he added quietly.  ‘He could hardly move.  Mother had to nurse him--and I still didn’t help him.  I was angry with him, I thought I hated him.  I hid in my room and wouldn’t even go visit him, not even when Mother came and told me he was asking after me, asking if I was all right.  He didn’t ask me to come, just wanted to know that I was okay.  I was angry, but I was also being a coward.  I was afraid to see how bad he looked.’  He smiled grimly.  ‘I still haven’t thanked him.  Thanks to him, I’ve never felt the Cruciatus, and I’ve never even been able to tell him how grateful I am.  That was the biggest example, but that whole year, he was always redirecting the Dark Lord’s attention, trying to keep his focus off of me and on him instead--protecting me.  He was so brave, for  _ my _ sake, and I can’t even say thank you.’

He hung his head a little, then, looking truly and genuinely miserable--no pouting.  He sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve.

Hermione squeezed his arm, her heart clenching.  ‘I’m sure he knows, Draco--you stayed with him, rather than leaving with your mother.  That’s got to tell him something, doesn’t it?’

Privately, she thought that Lucius very much needed to hear it from Draco, but voicing that would only make Draco feel worse.

He shook his head, sniffing.  ‘It’s not enough.’

‘Hey!’

They jumped and looked up to see Lucius, his hair still wet, standing in the doorway with his arms folded.  Draco quickly wiped his eyes again, dropping the privacy charms.

‘Why did you need privacy charms?’ Lucius demanded, pouting.  ‘And why are you both crying?  I leave the room for fifteen minutes and everything falls apart….’

Hermione’s hand flew to her cheek--it was wet.  She hadn’t even realised she was crying.  She began searching for a handkerchief as surreptitiously as possible.

Draco rose, shooting Lucius a dark look (mostly to mask his discomfiture, she thought).  ‘None of your business.  It’s why they’re called “privacy” charms, Father--you use them when you want a little  _ privacy _ .’

Lucius’s nose scrunched with disgust, and Draco’s eyes went wide.

‘Not--not  _ that _ kind of privacy--with  _ Hermione _ ?’ he squeaked.

Hermione giggled, and only realised when Lucius smile triumphantly that that had been his goal from the moment he walked in and saw how upset they were.  Draco noticed it, too, and his mortification faded.  He shook his head ruefully.

‘Well…I’ve got to go,’ Hermione sighed.  ‘I’ll see you both on Thursday?’

They turned to her with twin expressions of shock.

‘ _ Thursday _ ?!’ they cried in unison.

Hermione burst out laughing.  ‘Oh, boys!  It’s  _ Tuesday _ !  It’s not even two whole days without me.’

‘But aren’t you coming to the Weasleys’ tonight?  And Harry’s tomorrow?’ Draco asked, pouting.  ‘I was hoping to ask your advice on something.’

She shook her head.  ‘I already sent them my apologies, but I’ve realised there’s something I need to look into.’  She highly doubted Lucius was the  _ only _ inmate to have suffered abuses at the hands of the guards--and she never could tolerate injustice.  ‘And on Wednesday, Neville asked for my help with something.’

Draco blinked.  ‘Help with  _ what _ ?  So he’s not coming, either?’

She winced.  ‘I can’t tell you.  He sort of…swore me to silence.  He’ll be at the Weasleys’ tonight, but not at Harry’s.  Please don’t bother him about it, he’s really upset about it as it is.’

Well, ‘upset’ wasn’t exactly the right word.  Gregory Goyle had invited him to dinner, and while Neville had accepted, he’d been a bundle of nerves ever since receiving the invitation.  He’d asked her to come as back-up.

Draco nodded soberly.  ‘I won’t.  You’ll both be here on Thursday, though?’

Hermione nodded.  ‘Well, I shouldn’t speak for Neville, but I’ll be here.’

Draco was satisfied, but Lucius was still looking at her as though she had personally sucked all the joy out of his life.

‘Lucius….’

‘Draco is taking his We--’  He broke off, his face twisting with shame for a moment.  ‘Ginny,’ he corrected quietly.  ‘Draco and Ginny are going shopping tomorrow.  I was hoping, perhaps, that you wouldn’t mind….’

He trailed off, looking away.  Hermione glanced at Draco and received a confirming nod.  She stood and threw her arms around Lucius’s neck.  He stiffened with surprise for about half a second before returning the embrace, burying his face in her wilder-than-usual hair.  His cinnamon and vanilla scent was particularly strong, enveloping her, and it was very tempting to just stay like this all day.

She kissed his cheek and pulled away, forcing a smile.

‘Well, I can always make time for a friend,’ she said teasingly.  ‘So I will see  _ you _ at lunchtime tomorrow.’

She left before Lucius’s blindingly bright expression of joy could dazzle her into staying.


	16. Fear and Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Lucius get closer, only to misinterpret each other. Neville and Hermione dine at the Goyles'. Lucius finally gets the nerve to apologise to Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a rather miserable chapter, too, but it has a few high points. I enjoyed the end, anyway. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, too. :) There's a lot of thinking in this one.
> 
> I should probably mention that there's some more very mild Neville/Goyle in this one. I don't know if that bothers anyone...it's not in the tags because I wasn't planning on it being in here, it just kind of sneaked up on me! Like I said, though, it's very mild, they're just talking. You can pretty easily skim over it if it bothers you.
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy! :) Thank you for reading, and, of course, thank you to everyone who commented! :)

Hermione was surprised but relieved that Draco didn’t need her that night.  She would’ve been available, because she was up all night, looking through old  _ Prophets _ and making a list of every person arrested as a Death Eater, from the first issue she owned onward.  She would need to find either a list or copies of  _ Prophets _ from before September ’91 in order to do a full list.  After that, she would have to cross-reference to find out which ones had been killed--there was little point in advocating on behalf of a dead person.  She would much rather focus her energies on living people who might still be suffering, like Lucius.  If the families of the dead wanted to come forward after she brought this issue to light, they could advocate for themselves.

It was a  _ lot _ of work, on top of all the projects she was already involved in, and in addition to her teaching duties, but she felt very firmly that someone had to do this, and if not her, then who?  Besides, there was no guarantee that just because the Dementors were gone that the conditions had improved at Azkaban otherwise.  Her heart clenched at the thought of the current inmates who might also be suffering abuse, and she felt that bringing to light the  _ old _ abuses was the best way to help them.  An investigation was certain to follow, if she could gather enough evidence before releasing her findings to the Ministry--and the media.  A low-life like Rita Skeeter would pounce on this, which would make her actually be of use to Hermione for once.

There was a difference between punishing someone for committing a crime and abusing them.  To Hermione, the moral difference was very, very clear--Lucius and everyone like him had  _ deserved _ to go to prison for the acts they’d committed; they did  _ not _ deserve to be starved and humiliated.  She was still having a hard time grasping just what had gone through Lucius’s guards’ minds, what mental acrobatics made them think that forcing someone to lick the floor for hours just for asking if he could see his family was okay.  It made her furious all over again just to think about it, so she tried to keep her mind on the task at hand.

She had written the proposal and edited it several times after she’d come home and got dressed, and she was fairly happy with it.  When the Ministry re-opened on the Tuesday after New Year’s, Kingsley’s office would be her first stop.

Around mid-morning, she ran out of her own copies of the  _ Daily Prophet _ and dragged herself out of the mounds of paper to make lunch.  Crookshanks was sitting on the windowsill, twitching his tail and glaring at the mess she’d made all over  _ all _ of his favourite napping spots.

‘Sorry,’ she said tiredly, smiling at her grouchy companion.  ‘Will some tuna make up for it?’

He considered the offer for a moment before hopping down and trotting after her.

For Crookshanks tuna, and for Lucius and herself, she made hamburger gravy and potatoes, mostly because it was easy and she felt too weary for anything more complicated.  She’d pulled all-nighters a few times at Hogwarts, but she’d been younger and had house elves keeping her in constant supply of tea (although in the early days she hadn’t known it was house elves responsible for the cups that randomly popped up at her elbow).  Not that she was  _ old _ now, but she was no longer in practise, and she hadn’t thought to make herself any tea at all.  Not to mention the disrupted night of sleep the night before.  She’d spent most of the night watching Lucius for signs of distress.

Yawning, she gathered up both containers and Flooed through to Malfoy Manor.  Oddly, Lucius wasn’t standing there waiting for her.  When he wasn’t immediately visible, he was generally in the library, so she plodded in that direction, widening her eyes deliberately so they wouldn’t slide shut without her notice.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius was, indeed, in the library.  He was trying to work on making an outline for his final project, but he kept getting distracted--mostly with thinking about Draco.  Since he’d walked in on Draco and Hermione crying about something he couldn’t hear or read their lips to discern, thanks to the privacy charms, Draco had seemed edgy and moody.  He was back to snapping at Lucius with very little or no provocation, only to shrink in on himself and leave the room afterward.  He had not been sorry to see Draco go when Ginny arrived an hour ago.

On the other hand, Draco had also done something very, very kind for Lucius--something he’d wanted to ask for himself for the past year, but hadn’t quite dared to, lest Draco get angry with him again--he’d had the house elves open and repair Lucius’s fireplace.  He’d had a lovely fire in his room all night, which Tibby kept alive, and Lucius had slept very well.  Not as well as when Hermione had been there, but his nightmare had only come once, and it had been its usual self this time.  He’d also had an easier time getting back to sleep afterward, with the light and warmth of the fire to help remind him that he wasn’t in his cell anymore.  When he thanked Draco, his son had grumbled that it was Hermione’s idea and changed the subject.

The only theory Lucius had currently for Draco’s unhappiness with him was that something had come up in the news that reminded Draco and Hermione of some aspect of the war (hence the crying), and Draco was also reminded of all the reasons he had to hate and be angry with Lucius.  It wasn’t a theory he  _ liked _ , but it was all he could think of.  He’d done his best to be agreeable yesterday and this morning, but it hadn’t worked, so now Lucius had decided that the best course of action was to keep his head down until Draco forgot about it and stopped being angry again.  Perhaps an apology or two might help, at the right moment, although he’d apologised to Draco once before, when Narcissa left, and hadn’t received a very positive response.  Lying low was probably a better idea.

Someday, though, Lucius hoped to get up the courage to say all the things to Draco that he should’ve been saying all along-- _ I’m proud of you.  I’m sorry I screwed up your life and put you in danger.  I’m sorry I was a terrible father.  I’m sorry your mother left because of me.  I’m sorry I’ve been so much trouble for you.  I couldn’t have asked for a better son.  I love you.  I don’t deserve you, but I love you anyway.  Maybe someday you can forgive me. _

Perhaps hanging around Hermione would help.  Maybe some of her Gryffindor bravery would rub off on him, and he’d get up the nerve to say those things, even if Draco didn’t want to hear them.

‘There you are.’

He looked up and smiled.  Hermione was leaning in the doorway, yawning and holding food containers.  There were dark smudges under her eyes, and her hair was even bushier than normal, her clothes rumpled and her fingers stained with ink.  In other words, she was a beautiful sight.

‘Hi,’ he said, very originally, and mentally rolled his eyes at himself.

She smiled back.  ‘Hi.  What are you doing?’

Lucius tapped his fingers on the nearly-blank parchment, frowning slightly.  ‘I’m trying to work on my final project, but my mind keeps wandering.’

‘I see.  It probably needs food.’

‘Probably,’ he agreed, grinning and getting up to follow her.

That wasn’t the problem, but he would  _ never _ turn down Hermione’s cooking.

They ate in the kitchen instead of the dining room, perched on the stools, and Lucius guessed after watching her for a few moments that she’d chosen this location to help keep her awake.  As it was, she kept nodding off, jerking awake and sitting up just before her face would’ve landed in her food.  She was definitely not up for conversation, but she kept trying, so Lucius indulged her, smiling inwardly when she lost the thread of the conversation and fumbled to remember.

‘You were saying that they’re repealing one of the few statutes about werewolves that actually makes sense,’ he nudged her gently.

Hermione blinked.  ‘Oh.  Right.’

But then she said nothing further, staring at her plate.  Concern tightened his chest.

He tilted his head.  ‘Did you sleep at all last night?’

She shook her head, yawning.  ‘No, I was researching something and lost track of the time.’

And he doubted she’d got very much sleep the night before, sitting in that chair beside him.  He put her teacup out of her reach; she didn’t even notice.  She needed sleep, not a pick-me-up, so he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

‘Hermione, wake up!’

She jerked awake again, and Lucius had to grab her waist with both hands to steady her.  Her stool had nearly tipped over.

She frowned at the ground and slid off the stool.  ‘Maybe I should lie down.’

‘I should say so!’ he snapped, still a little on edge from her near-miss.  ‘You could have cracked your head open if you’d fallen.’

‘Oh,’ she said dumbly, blinking at him owlishly.

He hadn’t let go of her waist, so it was very easy to shift his arms and scoop her up, bride-fashion.

‘Whoa, easy, tiger,’ she slurred, squeezing her eyes shut.  ‘Let’s just take it slow.  I could just take a Pepper-up.’

‘I haven’t got any,’ Lucius said, climbing the stairs to the ground floor.  ‘Have you?’

‘No, I ran out and didn’t make any more, or even buy it, but I should’ve,’ she sighed, sounding a little more like herself now that the dizziness had passed.  ‘Where are we going?’

‘Back to the library.  I’m going to keep working, and you’re going to sleep.’

‘Oh, okay.’

He shook his head, snorting.  She didn’t move or protest when he settled her on his preferred sofa and draped a blanket over her.  He fussed for a moment, and she only moved when he straightened to leave, catching his wrist.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her eyes large and dark.

‘For what?’

‘For falling asleep on you.  And being bad company.  I didn’t realise before I left that I was so bad off,’ she admitted sadly.

Lucius smiled, idly brushing her cheek.  ‘I don’t mind.  How many times have I fallen asleep on  _ you _ ?  If you’re keeping score, I’m in trouble.’

She leaned into the light touch.  ‘As long as you’re not upset with me.’

‘No, not at all,’ he murmured, and then wondered what she would do if he touched her lips, and then wondered why he was wondering that.

She yawned again, letting go of his wrist.  ‘If I’m still asleep at four-thirty, will you wake me?  I’m supposed to meet Neville at five.’

‘Of course.’  He paused, watching her eyes flutter shut as she snuggled down into the cushions.  ‘Hermione?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you.  For the fireplace.  Draco told me it was your idea.’

Her eyes opened.  ‘Did it help?’

Lucius nodded.  ‘Very much.  I’d wanted to ask him for a long time if I could have my fireplace back, but….’

Her brow furrowed and she immediately seemed more alert.  He regretted broaching this topic now, when she so desperately needed to sleep, but it was too late to take it back.

‘But what?’ she prompted.

He looked away, fiddling with the end of his sleeve.

‘Lucius?  But what?’

He swallowed.  ‘I was afraid.’

It came out in a whisper.  It was a hard thing to admit.

‘Afraid?’  She paused, processing.  ‘Of Draco?’

He nodded once, very stiffly.

‘Why?’ she asked, an incredulous edge in her tone.

Lucius hunched his shoulders a little.  ‘He gets so angry with me, sometimes, and I don’t blame him, but I try not to bring anything up that might provoke him.’

There was another long pause.  He could feel his face getting hot.

‘Why would unblocking your fireplace provoke Draco?’ she asked, bewildered.

He took a slow breath.  ‘Because the Dark Lord is the one who had them all blocked up in the first place.  He only left a few open, mostly in rooms where we held meetings.  He liked it cold, I guess.’

‘And he was crazy,’ Hermione added helpfully, sitting up.  ‘But you’re going to have to help me out here--how would you asking Draco if he would ask the house elves to unblock a fireplace that the Dark Lord had blocked up be provoking Draco?’

He let out an exasperated huff, scowling at her.  ‘Think about it, Hermione.  Whose fault was it that the Dark Lord was even in our house in the first place?’

‘Volde--I mean, You-Know-Who’s,’ she corrected when he flinched automatically.

‘No, it was  _ my _ fault,’ Lucius insisted.  ‘I was the one who joined up as soon as the Dark Lord came calling in my youth.  I was the one who flew back to his side as soon as he returned.   _ I _ was the one who got Draco involved.  And I was the one who failed the Dark Lord, which was ultimately why he chose  _ our _ home as his headquarters.’

She rubbed her eyes and squinted at him, letting out a sigh.  ‘I’m too exhausted to be having this conversation,’ she muttered.  Then, louder, she said, ‘You and Draco need to be the ones talking about this, not me and you.’

His eyes went wide and he reeled back a couple of steps, shaking his head.  ‘No, no, no, no, I can’t talk to Draco, not about this,’ he said rapidly, his breathing picking up at the very idea.

Hermione frowned.  ‘Why not?’

‘Because I--’  His throat tried to close up on him, and he had to sit down before he fell.  ‘I’m afraid of what he’ll say,’ he choked out, trying to control his breathing, putting a hand over his eyes as the tell-tale burn began.  ‘I’m afraid--I don’t think I could bear to hear his condemnation.  I deserve it, but I don’t want….  I can’t lose Draco,’ he admitted, very, very softly.

Draco and Hermione were all he had left.  He couldn’t bear to lose either of them.  Hanging onto the mere thought of his son had got him through Azkaban, and knowing Draco and Hermione were on his side was all that was holding him together now, some days.  If either one of them were to leave, he didn’t think he could go on.  The very idea set him to quaking.

He heard her get up, but her tread was so light on the rug that he didn’t realise she was beside him until her hand settled on his shoulder.  He looked up anxiously, questioning.

Her face was grim.  ‘Come here,’ she said gently.

Lucius followed.  He let her do as she would, so it was with some surprise that he found himself on the sofa, with her nestled on top and to one side of him, one arm across his chest and her forehead resting against his cheek.  He could feel her breath on his neck.

‘You’re not going to lose Draco,’ she whispered.  ‘You’re not going to lose me.  Neither of us are going anywhere, okay?’

‘Okay,’ he mumbled.

She hugged him a little tighter, and he could feel the tension leak out of her body, pressed against his side, as she fell asleep, finally.

So, he probably wasn’t getting any more work done, then.

He couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed, not when she was so content, and particularly not when she started muttering incoherent nonsense in her sleep.  It was kind of adorable, and Lucius really, really didn’t like his past self for ever thinking that Hermione deserved to die.

He was also enjoying it for its own sake.  It had been a long, long time since he’d been snuggled (for lack of a better word) by anyone--after he was released from Azkaban, Narcissa slept as far away from him as she could without actually falling off the bed.  She’d claimed it was the smell the first night, but after that he’d been strong enough to successfully bathe (with a little assistance getting in and out of the tub), and she still stayed far away.  He had noted that her shoulders often shook before she fell asleep, and he’d concluded that his then-wife had either been too proud to admit she was crying or didn’t want to burden him further with her own suffering.  Possibly both.  When he had nightmares, she woke him and reassured him that he was at home, and then she retreated back to her side of the bed as soon as he was calm.

Before Azkaban, they had been fighting a lot.  She was nervous about throwing their lot in with the Dark Lord.  She had never cared much either way about blood status, other than to be openly proud of her own pureblood status, but it was different this time, she said.  She didn’t want Draco mixed up in it, she said.  He’d taken offence that she thought he’d do anything to endanger their only son, and he’d been extremely angry that she expected his loyalties to be so fickle.  He’d pledged himself to the Dark Lord, and he wouldn’t go back on it.  Moreover, he’d thought it was the best thing to ensure Draco’s future--to ensure that he would have the status and respect to which he was entitled.  They’d spent most of that year sleeping in separate beds, except when Draco was home to see whether they went into the same bedroom or not.

Of course, Narcissa had been right and he had been wrong.  He  _ had _ endangered Draco.  He’d not only nearly sacrificed their son’s future, but he’d nearly got him killed.  It was only Draco’s own actions that had saved his future, and the actions of Narcissa, Snape, and Potter that had saved his life.

Narcissa was yet another person he owed an apology (or perhaps a  _ litany _ of apologies), but on the very rare occasions she returned, it was usually a holiday, and Draco was always so happy to see her, it didn’t seem right for Lucius to spoil their happiness by bringing up old issues.  Instead, he tried to be polite and as invisible as possible, fading into the background, or in the case of Christmas, being completely absent while he took advantage of his pass to go outside.

Well, and the other two occasions, he’d been completely drunk, so he’d spent a lot of the time being absent by passing out in his room.  Still, the point was that he’d let them enjoy themselves and stayed out of their way.

Perhaps he could just write Narcissa a letter.

Hermione made an unhappy noise and cuddled even closer, which caused her sleeve to ride up her arm.  The scars there rather effectively killed the remains of his contentment--what was left, after thinking about the ruin he’d made of his family.

He had already apologised to Hermione once, but he didn’t think he could ever say it enough to her.  Not after all the ways in which he had directly and indirectly hurt her over the course of their acquaintance.

‘I’m sorry, Hermione,’ he whispered, tracing the scars with one finger.

‘Mmmm, not now, I’m busy,’ she mumbled, still very much asleep.

He smiled.  ‘I’ll tell you later, then.’

‘Okay,’ she sighed, and went back to softly muttering incoherent nonsense.

He watched her sleep, stroking the scars with his thumb continuously, as though he could soothe them away.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione woke a couple of hours later, mostly because she had to pee.  However, when she went to get up, she found that one arm was trapped in someone’s grip, and the other arm planted rather firmly on that someone’s upper arm, which had been underneath her.  In other words, she was quite tangled, and she was inadvertently yanked back down, since the person holding onto her arm hadn’t known she was about to get up so abruptly.

‘Oof!’ Lucius grunted.

She pushed the hair out of her face and looked at him sheepishly.  ‘Oops.  Sorry.  I gotta pee, let go.’

He released her with an embarrassed glance.  ‘Sorry.’

She waved that away and struggled to get up.  She’d sunk down in between him and the sofa back, so it was like trying to climb out of a pit.  A very soft, squishy pit.  He let out a brief, high yowl when she accidentally planted a hand directly on his groin.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ she half-laughed, half-cried, and finally just rolled over him to land on the floor on her bum, getting up and running for the loo from there.

Lucius was sitting up and cradling his groin with both hands when she returned.  She covered her face when he looked up, trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort.

‘I’m really sorry,’ she said around a muffled giggle.  ‘Are you okay?’

He looked between his hands for a moment.  ‘I hope so.  I haven’t had time to examine everything yet,’ he said dryly, but she could tell he was mostly recovered.

‘Well, that was awkward,’ she said, rubbing the back of her neck, thoroughly embarrassed.  ‘I really am sorry.  I’m not used to waking up next to anyone except Crookshanks, and he’s small enough and quick enough to stay out of the line of fire if I wake up with an emergency.’

He removed his hands, but he still moved rather gingerly as he stood.  ‘Surely it hasn’t been  _ that _ long since you were with Ronald that you’ve got out of practise?’ he asked with an edge in his voice.

Hermione’s face immediately flamed.  ‘Oh.  Um.’

He raised a brow at her.

‘We never….  I never….  That is, he and Lavender got up to things, and he wouldn’t get tested to prove to me he was clean, so we didn’t….’  She trailed off at Lucius’s startled expression.  Then, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she blurted, ‘I’m a virgin.’

Her face got even hotter and she clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling like she might actually die of embarrassment.

However, much to her surprise, Lucius didn’t laugh in her face, or make a snide comment about her appearance, or a joke about how she was probably going to marry a book someday, like Ron sometimes did.  He stared at her with a completely unreadable expression, and his eyes were suddenly very, very dark.  It sent a chill down her spine.

‘Oh?’ he said, in a quiet, velvety voice.

She felt the need to clarify.  Now that she’d gone this far, she might as well blab some more, she thought with a hearty dose of self-loathing.

‘Well, it’s not like I’ve never done  _ anything _ .  I know how it all works, and with Ron I did, you know, use my hands,’ she babbled nervously.  ‘Just not anything more, because sexually transmitted diseases are gross, and at least you can thoroughly wash your hands afterward.  And-and with Viktor, we did a little, uh, experimenting, but he said I was too young, even though I was fifteen, and I…think I should go kill myself now, good-bye.’

He caught her arm and turned her back around as she spun to flee.  His expression had gradually lightened into open amusement as she prattled, until now his eyes were dancing and he was smirking at her.

‘Hermione, you’re only twenty,’ he said patiently, despite his continued amusement.  ‘And you’ve no need to explain yourself to me.  It makes a great deal of sense--you are, after all, very responsible, much more so than your peers, and even most of the witches and wizards in  _ my _ age group.  I’m not going to judge you.  I was a virgin until I married Narcissa, so I’m hardly in a position to cast stones.’

She looked up at him curiously.  ‘You  _ were _ ?’

He went a little pink.  ‘My father would have  _ killed _ me,’ he admitted sheepishly.  ‘I was so terrified that he’d find out that I never even kissed a girl outside of wedlock--which only made them chase after me, I think.  My father had very strict ideas about that sort of thing.’

Hermione couldn’t help it--she giggled, relaxing.  ‘Was Narcissa a virgin, too?’

He snorted.  ‘She was a good deal sneakier than I was, and confident that her parents would believe her over any rumours they might have heard.  She slept with Evan Rosier in our seventh year.  And believe me, she took great satisfaction from holding her  _ superior _ level of experience over my head.  For the first year, all I heard was “Good, but not as good as  _ Evan _ .”  She had a lot of fun riling me up.  It was a bit less fun for me,’ he added wryly.

She laughed.  ‘I imagine.  How did you get her to stop?’

Lucius shrugged.  ‘I don’t know.  I think we just got better practised and got to know each other, and after a while, she forgot about her experience with him, or at least didn’t feel I compared so unfavourably anymore.’

Her face was hot again, and she was wondering why she’d pursued that line of questioning in the first place.  He was still holding onto her arm, his thumb moving back and forth unconsciously.  It was very distracting.

‘Well.  Anyway,’ she said in as steady a voice as she could manage.  ‘I am generally alone when I sleep.  And I’m still sorry.  Is it any better?’

‘Much,’ he said, and then glanced around as though he felt watched.  ‘Um.  Could you perhaps see your way to, uh…not tell Draco about this conversation?’

Her face burned a little more.  ‘Do I think I can  _ not _ discuss your sex life with your son?  Not a problem.’

He looked relieved.  ‘Thank you.  And perhaps you shouldn’t tell anyone else, either.’

She smiled at this evidence of male pride.  Lucius’s pride wasn’t  _ all _ gone.  Either that or it was making a slow comeback.

‘I won’t tell a soul,’ she promised.

‘Thank you,’ he said with even more obvious relief.  Then he looked a little pained.  ‘I won’t tell anyone, about you, if you don’t want me to.’

Hermione shrugged.  ‘You can put an ad in the  _ Daily Prophet _ if you like.  Everyone I care about already knows, now, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.’

He blinked, surprised.  ‘You’ve actually  _ told _ your friends that you’ve never--’

‘Ron is one of my friends, remember?’ she said, bemused.  ‘It would’ve been difficult to keep it a secret, with his blabber mouth.  And I wasn’t about to make up a nonexistent sexual encounter.  Besides, it’s not like it bothers me most of the time.  Ron doesn’t have any reason to care anymore, so he only occasionally teases me; Ginny shoves dating books at me and tells me to dress sexier, but otherwise doesn’t push it; the rest of the Weasleys pretend that I am sexless, other than Mrs Weasley asking me when I’m going to get married, which suits me just fine; Draco is either too embarrassed or too much of a gentleman to ever bring it up, even obliquely; Neville would actually die if he talked about sex openly, I think; and Harry, well….’

She stopped herself, shrugging.  No need to out  _ Harry’s _ virginal status.  He’d been a little busy trying not to be killed during school, and since then, he hadn’t been interested in dating.  Even if he had, she knew he would wait until he found someone who liked him for himself, and not for his fame.  That could take a long time, if he ever started dating again.

‘Since he seems to think of you like a sister, I would be surprised to learn he broached the subject,’ Lucius said with a small shudder.  ‘And crazy girl is crazy.’

She laughed.  ‘Luna’s just…different.  She sees the world through kaleidoscopic glasses.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he said dryly.

She couldn’t help another giggle at his tone, but it was getting late, and this line of conversation was leading her thoughts back around to the friendship-destroying place.  Particularly since he was still holding her arm, and even though her sleeve separated their skin, his thumb moving back and forth was making certain parts of her brain sit up and take notice.

‘I should go,’ she said, and her voice was a little husky, which just confirmed that she should definitely leave now.  ‘I need to get ready to meet Neville.’

‘It’s not four-thirty yet,’ Lucius replied, matching her soft, husky tone and leaning in toward her ever so slightly.  His eyes were almost glowing with intensity.

‘That was my absolute latest leaving time,’ she said weakly.  ‘I like more time to get ready than that.’

Her dream flashed through her mind, and Lucius’s eyes sharpened, locking on hers.  She swallowed.  She was suddenly very afraid that she was going to do something she would regret, and she began to tremble, trying to force her muscles to move, to leave.

He saw something in her face, she thought, because his eyes were suddenly shadowed and he let go of her arm, backing up a couple of paces.  Her heart clenched as she watched him shut down, the contentment gone.

‘I won’t keep you, then,’ he said lightly, but his expression was anything but light.

‘Lucius….’

He backed up another step when she reached out.  She let her arm drop with a sinking feeling.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, and turned on her heel and left.

She had no idea what had just happened, but she was pretty sure it was her fault.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It was very easy for Lucius to combine his plan to lie low for a while with his newest reason to be depressed.

Hermione was  _ still _ afraid of him.  He’d seen the fear in her eyes, and he’d felt her trembling.  Her body language had practically screamed flight.

He had no idea what he’d been doing, holding onto her arm and leaning in close like that.  He’d felt a strange pull toward her, a yearning that was familiar and yet not, but he wasn’t certain  _ exactly _ what he’d been yearning for--although he had an inkling that both excited him and made him feel a little guilty, for it probably would have ruined their friendship.  If she hadn’t been afraid, he was sure the yearning would have turned more recognisable when he got close enough, confirming whether or not his inkling was correct.

Of course, before that, there was his highly inappropriate physical response to her revelation that she was technically a virgin.  To his immense relief, she hadn’t seemed to notice or understand if she did, merely looking at him quizzically.  That kind of reaction was  _ not _ acceptable between friends.  It was all the more odd because he’d never cared about deflowering virgins before--only  _ Hermione’s _ virginity had ever made him react that way.  He was rather embarrassed by his adolescent response, and only relieved that he’d been able to suppress it quickly and react in a more appropriate manner afterward.

After she fled from him, he didn’t feel like doing anything anymore.  He wasn’t looking forward to Draco’s return at all, so he relocated to his room.  He’d left one armchair where Hermione had left it yesterday, but the other was by the now-cold fireplace.  He sat in that one, staring at the empty hearth and trying to decide whether he felt like facing yet another rejection today.  He wasn’t sure he could take being ignored by his own house elves, on top of everything else that seemed to be going wrong.

The worst part of it was that with Draco, he didn’t even know what he’d done wrong.  At least with Hermione, Lucius was fairly certain he’d made her uncomfortable by gripping her arm and leaning into her personal space.  He’d obviously triggered her fear of him with his proximity, and he would need to be more careful in the future, letting her approach him and set her own boundaries where she would be most at ease.  It would be difficult, since he liked being near her--he felt warm, which was rare anymore, and relaxed when she was close--but he had enough to control to make it happen.  That was fairly straightforward.

It was difficult to fix it or alter his behaviour when he had no idea why Draco was angry with him in the first place, though, so that bothered him a little more.  And then Hermione said that he should talk to Draco about things?  How in the world did she expect that to work when he couldn’t seem to keep from provoking Draco  _ without _ broaching difficult and painful subjects?  No, he would stick to the tried and true--keep out of Draco’s way and don’t speak unless spoken to, until the storm blew over.

Shivering, Lucius slouched down in the chair with an unhappy sigh.  Every time he felt like he was on a little more stable ground, something would happen to mess it all up again.  It was usually his own fault, though, so he felt even worse for complaining about it, even mentally.  Everything he said and everything he did was wrong, had been for almost his entire life, and although he now recognised the fact, he was at a loss when it came to learning to say and do the  _ right _ things.  He also was beginning to feel a little like no one was noticing when he  _ did _ manage to change something, which was more than a little upsetting.  He hadn’t made any derogatory remarks about Muggle-borns in several months, and had, in fact, been praising Muggles and their ingenuity for almost as long, but everyone was still acting like he hated them.

He was very discouraged.

Tibby appeared with a pop that probably took several years off his life.  He bit his tongue on the curses that wanted to spill out of his mouth; surprisingly, it was getting easier with practise.

‘Is Master wanting his fire lit?’ Tibby asked, and her usual sneer was oddly absent.  She was a lot less ugly when she wasn’t making a horrible face at him.

‘Yes, please, Tibby,’ he said wearily but politely.

He’d continued his policy of being kinder to his house elves for Hermione’s sake, and for the first time, it actually seemed to be paying off.  Tibby wasn’t sneering, and he hadn’t had to call for her to get her to come and light the fire for him, she had come on her own.  That had never happened before that he could recall.

The fire was soon snapping merrily, the warmth making him tingle as he thawed a little.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, staring into the flames.

‘Would Master like a blanket?’ she asked.

He did a double-take at her nearly-kind tone.  Her expression was almost…gentle.  Lucius was very confused now, and beginning to be a little suspicious.  Still, he  _ would _ like a blanket, and even if she was up to something, he couldn’t think of anything too horrible she could get up to with just a blanket.  He made a mental note to eat with caution at dinner.

‘If…you wouldn’t mind, Tibby, yes, I would like a blanket,’ he said carefully.  ‘Please.’

It appeared with a snap of her fingers.  There didn’t seem to be any foul play that he could detect.  It was just a blanket.  He snuggled down into it unashamedly.

‘Thank you, Tibby,’ he sighed, and shut his eyes.

He would take this bit of kindness at face value, for now.  He needed it too much to quibble over details, like the fact that he felt absurdly grateful to a  _ house elf _ , of all things.

‘Master is most welcome,’ Tibby said with an unprecedented amount of gentleness in her scratchy, squeaky voice.  ‘If Master is needing anything else, Tibby would be happy to help.’

‘I’m fine now, thank you,’ he mumbled.

He hadn’t felt particularly tired before, but the warmth was making him sleepy already.  He hadn’t realised how cold he was.  The crack of Tibby’s departure was much, much softer than normal, so it didn’t rouse him, and soon he was asleep.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione stared awkwardly at Mr Goyle from across the table.  He stared back, blinking slowly, like a cow or a sheep.  Neville and ‘Greg,’ as he’d insisted on being called (since it was a social call), were deep in low, murmured conversation, and had been ever since they got over the initial uncomfortable stages of seeing someone you’d once slept with but hadn’t seen for a very, very long time in a non-hostile environment.  They had started out sitting normally, but had gradually leaned closer and closer until their heads nearly touched over the table.

She had an idea or two of where this was probably going.  She had no intention of being around to see it when it got that far.  Once was more than enough.

‘This is good,’ she commented, pointing at the lamb.

Mr Goyle grunted.  She supposed he was agreeing.

No matter how many times she came over to help them with their school work, Hermione still couldn’t quite get used to the Goyles.  They were slow, and rarely spoke, and not very intelligent at all.  Buckbeak had more brains than the two of them put together, it seemed at times.  She supposed she’d grown rather fond of them over time, the way one is fond of a dog that has never quite grasped what ‘sit’ means, but she couldn’t see herself ever making friends with them.  Mr Goyle in particular seemed uninterested in her outside of passing her class, although Goyle, Jr.--Greg--had made a few friendly overtures, asking after her on more than one occasion.  She responded politely and asked after him in turn, and that was about as far as their non-school-related interactions had gone.  Since it meant he was trying to be nice, and he’d stopped calling her a Mudblood, she was more than satisfied with that level of friendship, if you could call it that.  Although, for a Goyle, ‘How are you?’ was the equivalent of a ten-page dissertation on the long-term effects of deforestation, so she was actually quite impressed he managed it on a fairly regular basis.

Hermione thought she could see what  _ Neville _ saw in Greg, though, now that she was seeing them together in a non-brain-breaking way.  Neville had never been particularly concerned with high-minded intellectual discourse (he got enough of that at work, and in a subject he actually cared about), so Greg’s halting, sometimes painfully obvious comments on the state of Wizarding Britain today were more like soothing chit chat, which was more Neville’s speed outside of work.

He also had a tendency to get steamrollered during conversations with Harry, Ron, and Draco (and sometimes with certain girlfriends he’d had), being a more laid-back, quiet type.  When that happened, he would simply fall silent until his opinion was solicited again, seemingly unbothered.  That never happened with Greg, that she could see.  He listened intently and seriously to everything Neville said, frowning with concentration, and then paused a moment to formulate a response before he spoke.  She mostly tuned out their actual conversation, but she didn’t need to hear it to see their body language, to see that they took turns and listened attentively to one another.  She could also see that both young men were a lot more relaxed and content than she’d seen either of them, in Neville’s case for a long, long time.

‘Are you dating Longbottom?’ Mr Goyle asked slowly, scrunching up his face with the effort.

Hermione smiled.  ‘No.  He just asked me to come along for moral support.  He wasn’t sure why he’d been invited.’

Mr Goyle thought about that for so long that she had decided he wasn’t going to reply at all by the time he actually did.

‘Gregory remembered the other day that they hadn’t had a date in a while,’ he said sluggishly.  ‘He can’t take Longbottom out for a proper date again until our probation is over.’

Hermione stared, frozen.  Neville hadn’t been aware that this was a date, or he wouldn’t have asked her along.  In fact, as far as she knew, the only not-hostile encounter Greg and Neville had ever had was the one incident she’d (unfortunately) witnessed, and then Goyle had gone back to ignoring or harassing Neville for the rest of their school career.  Apparently, that fumbling attempt at intercourse had counted as a date in Goyle’s addled brain, and he’d considered the two of them a couple ever since.  She hoped Neville was okay with having a ‘date’ once every four years, since that had been how long it took for ‘Greg’ to realise they hadn’t had one in ‘a while.’

She would have to ask Draco or Luci--no, definitely ask  _ Draco _ if any of this was normal behaviour for purebloods, or if all of it was just a strange Goyle thing.

Mr Goyle was starting to bristle.  She had to wait several minutes to find out why.

‘Is it a problem for you that my son is gay?’ he growled protectively.

She relaxed, relieved.  ‘No, it’s not a problem, Mr Goyle.  I just didn’t know this was intended as a date, or I would’ve declined Neville’s invitation so they could be alone.’

He processed, slowly losing the aggressive posture.  ‘Oh.  That’s okay, then.’

‘Hmm.’

By the time she finished her meal, Neville and Greg were still deep in conversation, and showed no signs of motion.

‘Neville?  I’m going to go now,’ she said loudly and clearly.

He waved a hand in acknowledgement and continued explaining something to Goyle, Jr., possibly about bubotubers, but they were so close and he was murmuring so softly that she couldn’t be sure.  Shaking her head with a wry smile, she said good-bye to Goyle, Sr., and vacated the premises.

Hermione’s first instinct was to go back to Malfoy Manor, to Lucius, to try to apologise again for hurting his feelings--somehow--she still wasn’t quite clear on what had happened between them.  She knew he was standing very, very close, holding her arm, leaning closer than he ever had before.  She knew she’d been very, very,  _ very _ tempted to throw caution to the wind and kiss him, and that was  **_ bad _ ** .  She also knew that his eyes had been almost magnetic in their intensity, and she wished now that she’d lowered her Occlumency shields, just a little, just enough to find out what he was thinking as he stared at her and tried to convince her to stay.

A new fear had wormed its way into her gut, joining the many other fears she had about her inappropriate feelings for Lucius.

It was this that made her go home instead.  She couldn’t face Lucius head-on, with near-perfect honesty (no need to mention the fact that she was rather desperately in love with him, to the point that she had actually considered whether or not she would want to change her last name if they got married, before roundly chastising herself and shoving those thoughts away), until she had analysed and tucked away this new fear with the other ones.

Crookshanks watched her tidy up from the windowsill, twitching his tail and continuing to look very put out about the lack of proper napping spaces.  Hermione tried to ignore his judging stare as she put away the stacks of newspapers, considering her newest reason not to start anything with Lucius.

This fear was a lot more personal, like the fear that Lucius was just playacting in order to get her sympathy so she would pass him.  That particular fear was mostly assuaged by now--she didn’t think even  _ he _ could pretend to be soothed out of an intensely horrible nightmare by her and not Draco.  Her new fear was that it was all gratitude.  She was there for Lucius, she helped him in and out of class, she was around and kept him company.  She and Draco were the only ones who were around on a consistent basis (well, the only ones he liked, anyway, as the Weasleys and Luna didn’t really count).  Constant exposure and gratitude could have him thinking he felt more for her than he really did.

That was actually the most likely explanation, honestly.  Lucius had a lot to offer  _ her _ , with his inexhaustible fortune, his gigantic manor with matching library, his intelligence and his ability to hold an interesting conversation, his good looks and suave manner.  He made her laugh, he made her feel as though her presence was very welcome and her thoughts were important.  He made her feel good about herself.

By contrast, she had very little to offer him besides a passing mark in Muggle Studies, and therefore a release from his probation.  She cooked him meals that he liked, too, she supposed.  She couldn’t think of anything to draw his interest if he wasn’t stuck in his current situation.  If he didn’t need her for class, there was no reason for him to want to have any kind of conversation with her.  If he didn’t need her food because he could eat out at a restaurant he actually liked, he wouldn’t need her to come over.

Hermione wasn’t elegant and polished and beautiful.  She wasn’t rich.  She was opinionated and stubborn, and sometimes even rude, when the situation called for it.  She wasn’t as boorish as, say, Ron could be when his temper got the better of him, but she certainly wasn’t nearly in Narcissa and Lucius’s class when it came to style and grace.  Left to her own devices, she leaned toward the well-worn, ‘jeans you’ve owned for six years but you can’t bear to part with them because they’re just so  _ comfortable _ , even if they have got about twenty holes in them by now’ side.  Her hair was a frizzy, bushy, curly mess at all times, even when she managed to wrangle it into some kind of shape.  She had a very plain face and an equally plain body that might even be considered slightly boyish, by some.  She was very firmly middle class, in both finances and attitudes--while she and Lucius agreed a lot on Ministry politics, and he had come around on the topic of blood status, there was still a lot that Lucius didn’t understand or thought beneath him.  Once he wasn’t stuck at home, he could get intelligent enough conversation just about anywhere he pleased, so hers was mostly of interest to him because he was, essentially, a captive audience.  Even on a friendship-only level, she didn’t see any reason for him to feel so strongly about her once he was free.

And on the relationship level, the forbidden, wistful imaginings she kept trying to banish…well, before her, there was Narcissa.  Hermione compared herself to his ex-wife and found herself wanting in every way imaginable.

Once Lucius was free, there was no way he would be interested in Hermione, romantically or otherwise.  It was probably the most depressing thought she’d ever had, but there it was.

Sighing, she sat down, hugging a pile of newspapers.  Crookshanks hopped down from the sill and came over to rub against her, now that there was room for him on the sofa.  He licked her knuckles, purring, and proceeded to give himself a bath.

‘You still love me, Crooks?’ she murmured.

He purred a little louder in affirmation.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius woke with a stiff neck and a very dim outlook on life.  It appeared to be late evening, and he could hear Draco moving around down the hall, evidently returned from both shopping and dinner at Harry’s.  He wasn’t certain whether to be glad or upset that Draco hadn’t come and woken him.  He settled on relief instead that Draco hadn’t found a reason to yell at him.  The fire was still burning strong, so evidently Tibby was keeping an eye on it without being asked again.

He stretched some of the stiffness out, but his neck continued to ache in the spot it had been strained before.  He cursed himself for falling asleep in a chair--he should’ve known better.

Draco still didn’t come, so Lucius readied for bed and slid between the covers, feeling lonely and a little abandoned.  He still wasn’t sure whether it was good or bad that Draco was avoiding him.  He supposed it was better to be lonely than to be snapped at, though.

The rest of his night was disrupted with nightmares.  Every time he recovered from one and tried to go back to sleep, it seemed to return with a vengeance, keeping him awake and agitated most of the night.  And Draco still didn’t come.

Lucius wished for Hermione, but he wasn’t certain she would come if he Floo-called and asked, and he didn’t think he could take it if she said no, so he did his best to get through alone.

He gave up on sleep when the sun rose.  His neck still ached, making turning his head very difficult, and he felt tired and nauseated, but he couldn’t take another repetition of sleep-nightmare-wake up.

Draco barely looked up from his newspaper and tea when Lucius entered, grunting instead of saying good morning.  Following his ‘lying low’ policy, Lucius nodded stiffly, even though Draco wasn’t looking to see it, and sat as silently as possible.  He still felt sick, so it was very easy to quietly nibble at some toast so as not to disturb Draco any further.  He’d been hoping to ask for a potion for the pain in his neck, if conditions had improved, but Draco seemed icier than ever, his face set in hard lines, so Lucius abandoned the notion.

After breakfast, Draco locked himself in his study.  Lucius moped around in the hallway outside of it for a while, but there wasn’t a sound from within, so finally he retreated to the library.  He would’ve just gone back to bed, but he didn’t want to get caught out when Draco was already angry with him.

He was determined to be presentable for dinner tonight, as well, as much as the thought of trying to entertain the Weasleys made his already-sick stomach clench.  It was hard to be around them for different reasons than it had been before, but it didn’t make it any less difficult.  If anything, it was much  _ more _ difficult.

His tentative overtures were meeting with varying responses.  Percy had been completely oblivious to the tension from the start, so he had easily and eagerly accepted Lucius’s listening ear when Lucius had asked how things were at his job (much to his regret).  Ron had reacted with shock and confusion to an equally innocent query, and Lucius thought perhaps he’d made things worse unintentionally.  Ginny hadn’t even noticed Lucius’s attempts to be polite and ask after her health, partly because she was so completely focused on Draco, and partly because it was hard to get a word in with her.  Molly hadn’t seemed to notice, either, mostly because Lucius was already polite to her.  She’d certainly noticed when he asked her to dance at the party, though, and her face had remained scarlet for the rest of the night.  He didn’t think the twins really counted.  In fact, he was so wary of them that he didn’t think he should talk to them ever, lest they get ideas in their heads.

Then, of course, there was Arthur.  Lucius had been dreading talking to him ever since the moment he realised he ought to apologise to him.  Draco had picked out a book on automobiles as Lucius’s Christmas gift/peace offering to Arthur, and Draco had delivered Arthur’s short and to-the-point thank-you note, but that was all that had come of it.  He’d had no indication that any kind of attempt to talk to him would be welcome, so Lucius had continued avoiding him.  He didn’t really want to talk to Arthur alone.  He didn’t want to be tackled, and possibly punched, especially since he wasn’t feeling well today.  However, now was as good a time as any, with Draco angry with him and Hermione frightened off, and he  _ did _ deserve whatever Arthur decided to dish out.  Might as well pile on a little more misery and have it over.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was very, very tense as they headed to the manor, but Harry was kind enough not to mention it.  She took several deep breaths and tried to relax, but it didn’t really work.

To her surprise, Lucius wasn’t closed off, as he’d been that day, and he didn’t step away from her when she stepped closer.  Now that her initial fear was proved wrong, she studied him closer.  He looked anxious but cautiously hopeful, under his usual cold, superior mask.  His eyes flickered as she stepped even nearer, brightening just a little.  And…she realised that he was holding his head, neck and shoulders very still, and hunched over slightly, trying not to show any weakness.

He was hurting.

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was greeting Harry.  He didn’t so much as look at Lucius, not even for a second.  She made a mental note to observe further and turned back to Lucius, who appeared anxious again.

She smiled.  ‘Hi,’ she said softly, stepping a little closer still and brushing the backs of her fingers against his.  ‘Sorry I had to go so quickly yesterday.’

His mouth twisted slightly.  ‘That’s all right,’ he said quietly, dropping his eyes for a moment.  ‘Did Neville’s…uh, project go well?’

‘Oh, it went very, very well,’ she said dryly.  ‘Neville was quite pleased.  I was mostly there for moral support, and I ended up being bored.  How was  _ your _ evening?’

Lucius rolled his shoulders in a very careful shrug, but she saw his faint wince anyway.  ‘It was all right.’

She nudged him and they started walking toward the sitting room, following the trail of Weasleys.  She did hang back a bit, though, so that everyone else went inside ahead of them, and she drew him to a stop just outside of the sitting room, throwing up a quick privacy charm.

‘Where does it hurt?’ she asked without preamble.

He blinked, surprised.  ‘I don’t--’

‘I can see that you’re in pain,’ she said impatiently.  ‘Don’t lie to me.  What happened?’

He crumpled just a bit, and she could see his exhaustion as his mask faltered.  She resisted the urge to draw him into her arms, but only barely.

‘My neck,’ he admitted meekly, rubbing one side of it.  ‘I fell asleep in a chair, and it…aggravated an old injury.  I should’ve known better, but I wasn’t thinking….’

Hermione cringed inwardly.  She knew what old injury he was referring to.  Fortunately, it was her policy to always come prepared.  Her beaded bag was always on her person, and she kept it well-stocked with emergency supplies.

‘ _ Accio _ ,’ she muttered, and the pain potion shot into her open palm.  She held it out to him.  ‘Here.  I think I need to buy you and Draco your own stock of potions.’

Lucius accepted it hesitantly, uncorking the dose and knocking it back when she made an encouraging gesture.  He made a face at the taste and handed the vial back.  Almost instantly, she could see the tension melting out of his shoulders.

‘Thank you.’  He paused.  ‘We have a stock of potions somewhere.  Draco moved them and locked them up around the same time that he locked away the alcohol.’

‘Oh.’

There were probably some dangerous things in their supply of potions, then.  She didn’t ask why he hadn’t just asked Draco for a dose--she had continued to note that Draco avoided even looking at Lucius, not really acknowledging his existence.  She knew Draco was upset with himself, but he was taking it out on Lucius, whether he realised it or not.  She would have to find a moment to speak with him alone.

He was still hunching over slightly, and though he tried to make the movement casual to avoid notice, she very plainly saw it when he put a hand over his stomach, the corners of his eyes tightening in a barely noticeable wince.  In the next instant, he seemed fine again, but Hermione was not deceived.

‘What else?’ she demanded, folding her arms.

Lucius attempted an innocent expression.  ‘What?’

She raised a brow, unimpressed.  ‘What’s wrong with your stomach?  Is it hurting, too?  Because I know you know that’s a different potion.’

He sighed.  ‘I can’t get anything past you anymore, can I?’

‘Nope,’ she said smugly.  ‘Do you have a stomachache, or are you nauseated?’

He grimaced, hunching a little more.  ‘Nausea.’

Hermione got out the correct potion and handed it to him as well, frowning at him with concern.

‘Are you getting sick?’ she asked as gently as she could.

Lucius drank that potion, too, and handed back the empty vial.  He didn’t look very sure of himself when he answered.

‘I don’t think so?’ he said tentatively.

Her frown deepened.  ‘Well, if you still want me to come tomorrow, I’m going to keep an eye on you, if you don’t feel any better.’

‘Of course I still want you to come!’ he cried immediately, only to shrink back a little, looking at her uncertainly.  ‘If…if you still want to come, that is.’

Hermione nodded, smiling to put him at ease.  ‘I’m looking forward to it.  I’d like to see if Draco actually manages to stay up until midnight, or if he ends up coming home early.  Besides, the Weasleys are even rowdier than usual on New Year’s Eve.  I’ve already told them I’ve got plans with you.’

He slowly relaxed.  ‘Oh, good.’

‘I guess we’d better get back to the others, before Draco freaks out,’ she teased.

Lucius sighed.  ‘If we must.’

She dropped the privacy charm and his cool mask returned, and they joined the group in the sitting room.  No one seemed to have noticed their absence, thankfully.

Dinner went fairly smoothly, although she couldn’t help noting that Lucius was much quieter than usual, and despite her potion helping (or at least he claimed it had helped), he still didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.  She didn’t comment, mostly to avoid embarrassing him by drawing Mrs Weasley’s attention to his poor appetite.  She also noted that Lucius stared at Draco mournfully several times, only to continue to be ignored, and he kept shooting nervous glances at Arthur.  Arthur had noticed that part as well, and frowned at Lucius, which only caused him to get  _ more _ nervous-looking.

She didn’t get to find out what that was about, though, because as soon as dinner was over, Neville came over and asked to speak to her privately.  She noted with concern that Lucius was approaching Arthur in small, roundabout steps, but Neville’s anxious expression persuaded her to let it be, although she remained very curious about what might be about to happen in the sitting room.

Neville guided her back into the now-empty dining room, and cleared his throat several times.

‘Neville, it’s okay,’ she said when he still failed to speak.  ‘Whatever it is, I’m sure  _ you’re _ more upset about it than I am.’

He didn’t look like that made him feel any better.  ‘I wanted to apologise,’ he blurted, sticking his hands in his pockets and hanging his head.  ‘I pretty much abandoned you at dinner last night.’

She smiled.  ‘It’s all right.  I was just glad it went so smoothly.  You were so nervous, I thought they were going to eat  _ us _ or something.’

He shrugged uncomfortably.  ‘Well, and I didn’t know it was going to be like that.  I wouldn’t have asked you to come along if I thought it was going to be all….’

‘Date-like?’ she suggested gently.

His ears turned red.  ‘Yeah.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said kindly, patting his shoulder.  ‘I didn’t know, either.  Who knew the Goyles move so slowly?’

He smiled hesitantly.  ‘I think it might be us purebloods in general.  I’m not exactly a fast mover, either, and look at how long it took Draco to get around to asking Ginny out, or how long it’s taking Lucius to ask  _ you _ out.  I mean, he moves so slowly he didn’t even manage to ask you for a dance before you left the ball.’

Hermione felt as though all the blood had drained from her body.  Her lips were slightly numb, but she managed to speak through them somehow.

‘What makes you think Lucius  _ wants _ to ask me out?’

Neville tilted his head, puzzled.  ‘Well, doesn’t he?  I mean, he only has eyes for you, always.  Especially at the ball, though--no matter who he was dancing with, he was always looking for you.  It’s like he doesn’t even know there are other women in the room when you’re around--scratch that, it’s like he doesn’t know there are other  _ people _ in the room when you’re there.’

Her heart was pounding and it took an effort to draw a breath.  She tried a little laugh, but it sounded more like a wheeze.

‘I’m sure he wasn’t looking at me the  _ whole _ time,’ she said weakly.  ‘What about when he was dancing with Narcissa, for example?’

Neville shrugged.  ‘Still looking for you.  He just about left her standing there in the middle of a dance when he saw Harry escorting you out, I thought, but he ended up staying.  He kept looking at the door, though, and he went after you as soon as the dance was over.’

She pulled out a chair and sat quickly.  ‘Oh….’

She pressed a hand to her chest, Lucius’s own words echoing back to her-- _ ‘I do know that I did my best to be faithful to Narcissa in word, deed, and thought.  That includes schooling one’s eyes, not allowing stray glances.’--‘ I would never expect my partner to show the same level of commitment, but personally, I try to keep my eyes where they belong--on my partner.’--‘If one is truly devoted to one’s partner, one shouldn’t need to look elsewhere.’ _

She physically waved her hand, shaking her head violently.  That was  _ different _ \--he was talking about Narcissa.  Just because he looked at Hermione a lot didn’t  _ mean _ anything.  They were  _ just friends _ .  She couldn’t let it be anything more than that.  No matter how much her heart was aching at the moment, yearning for it to mean what Neville thought it meant.

_ No! _

Neville peered at her worriedly.  ‘Are you all right?  Do you need a glass of water?  I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Hermione clamped down on her emotions fiercely, using every bit of Occlumency training she’d ever had.  She managed a fair impression of a smile, waited for her heart to calm before she stood.

‘It’s all right.  I’m fine.  I think you’re mistaken,’ she added gently.

He did not look convinced.  ‘Maybe we should go sit where it’s more comfortable.  I still think you should drink some water.’

‘Maybe,’ she agreed, and let him escort her to a comfortable chair and fuss over her, which, naturally, got everyone else in the room involved in fussing over her.  She passed it off as a faint spell.

Lucius and Arthur were nowhere to be seen.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius was trembling, he noted as if it was happening to someone else.  Odd, that he’d never imagined a circumstance in his life where he would tremble before Arthur Weasley.

Not that he really had a reason to be so afraid--yet.  He had asked Arthur if he might have a private word with him; Arthur had agreed, albeit suspiciously, and they had retired to the library.  Neither of them had said a word yet.  Lucius’s tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, and Arthur was standing by one of the reading tables, studying Lucius’s Muggle Studies books with keen interest.

‘I….’

Lucius stopped rasping.  His throat was completely dry all of a sudden.  He tried to clear his throat, but that didn’t seem to help.

Arthur looked up from the textbooks and watched him coolly.  That didn’t help, either.

Another silent moment passed.  Sighing, Arthur took a few steps back in his direction, although he made sure to stop farther than two arm’s-lengths.

‘Lucius?’

He tried not to look as terrified as he felt, but doubted he’d managed it.  ‘Yes?’

‘Are we just going to stand here staring at each other all night, or are you going to say whatever’s on your mind, eventually?’ Arthur asked flatly, folding his arms.

‘I….’  He tried to clear his throat again, but his voice remained thin and raspy.  ‘I’m going to say it, eventually.’

Arthur raised his brows and looked expectant.

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together behind his back to hide their shaking.  ‘I wanted…to apologise,’ he managed to choke out roughly.

Arthur stared at him blankly, his arms dropping to his sides the only sign that he’d heard.

‘I didn’t….’  Lucius coughed, staring at the toes of his shoes because suddenly, Arthur’s stare was too much.  ‘I was wrong.  You were right.  I didn’t…understand.  That I was helping destroy everything I was trying to save.  I….  I’m sorry about the things I’ve said about you and your family.’  He tried to swallow and his throat made an audible squeak.  ‘You’re a better man than I am, and I’m….  I’m sorry.  I don’t expect you to forgive me, I just wanted you to know.’

His halting apology ended, and he couldn’t quite make himself to look up to gauge Arthur’s expression.  The silence stretched until he thought he might die from the tension.

‘I’m sorry I tackled you in a bookstore,’ Arthur said at last.

Lucius was so surprised that he huffed out a laugh.  When he looked up, Arthur was smiling crookedly, his cheeks slightly pink.  His next attempt to clear his throat was more successful.

‘I didn’t really mind,’ Lucius admitted, smiling wryly.  ‘Other than the one book hitting me in the eye.  I hadn’t roughhoused like that since I was a boy.  The next time you decide to tackle me, though, maybe do it where there’s nothing heavy to fall on us?’

Arthur’s smile firmed up.  ‘Noted.’  His eyes drifted back toward the reading table.  ‘I’ve been quite jealous of you, you know?’

Lucius started, blinking.  ‘Jealous?  Of me?’

‘Yes, I’ve been rather jealous that you get to take Muggle Studies and I don’t,’ Arthur explained, running a covetous hand over one of the books.  ‘I would audit it, if I didn’t have to work.’

‘Oh.’  Well, that  _ definitely _ made sense.  ‘You should ask Hermione if she’ll lend you the textbooks,’ he suggested, walking over to join him.  ‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind explaining anything you don’t understand.  Or you can wait until I’ve finished the class, and you can borrow mine.’

Arthur did a double-take.  ‘Really?’

Lucius shrugged.  ‘Why not?  They are quite fascinating.  I’ve been reading ahead a bit into the intermediate textbook, and apparently, the Muggle legal system involves something called “due process.”  Or, a lot of them do, I should say.  The different countries all do things differently.  It’s very confusing.’

Arthur nodded absently.  ‘Ooooh, what’s that?’

He’d spied the book on electronics.

‘Hermione gave me that for Christmas,’ Lucius said happily.  ‘Do you want to look at it?’

‘Do I ever!’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione and Draco were supposed to be helping to search for Lucius and Arthur, but instead, Hermione was dragging Draco into his study.  She wasn’t concerned for Arthur’s safety, given that she didn’t think Lucius’s intentions were malicious when he approached Arthur, and she was fairly confident that Arthur wasn’t beating Lucius to a pulp.  Fairly.  A little, teensy bit of worry was niggling at her, but mostly she wasn’t concerned.  She certainly wasn’t as riled up as Mrs Weasley and Harry, who were both convinced that Lucius and Arthur were currently locked in mortal combat.  Ginny was helping them look because, as she said, she wanted to see the Fight in the Bookstore: The Sequel.

It helped settle Hermione’s worries that Lucius didn’t have a wand, and Arthur was a decent fellow who wouldn’t attack an unarmed wizard unless  _ severely _ provoked.  Anyway, her talk with Draco was  _ at least _ as important as what Lucius and Arthur  _ might _ be getting up to.

‘Okay, ow, that was my arm,’ Draco said, pouting and rubbing the offended limb.  ‘What did I ever do to you?’

She glared at him.  ‘Do you really want to go there?  And quit being a baby.’

His pout grew.  ‘I’m not being a baby,’ he muttered, but dropped it, because while it was all water under the bridge now, he really did  _ not _ want to go into all the things he’d done to her in the past, as she’d suspected.  ‘What do you want?’

Hermione got straight to the point.  ‘Why are you ignoring Lucius?’

He dropped his eyes guiltily, not trying to deny it.

‘Stop it,’ she snapped.  ‘Stop it  _ right now _ .  I know you’re upset about what you told me, but you’re frightening him.’

Draco’s brow furrowed.  ‘Frightening  _ Father _ ?  That’s not possible.’

‘Yes, it is.  You  _ know _ it is.  He’s afraid of making you angry.  He’s afraid of pushing you away.  With you ignoring him like this, he’s afraid he’s done something wrong.  He doesn’t know what, exactly, which only makes him  _ more _ afraid.’

He frowned.  ‘He told you this?’

Hermione sighed.  ‘Not about this situation in particular, but he has told me that he’s afraid to ask you things or talk to you about certain things because he doesn’t want to lose you.’

Draco’s jaw dropped.  ‘ _ Lose _ me?!  Why would he lose me?  That’s just insane!’

She shook her head, perching on the edge of a chair.  ‘Not to Lucius, it isn’t.  He thinks that if he makes you angry enough, you’ll leave.  I told him he needed to talk to you about something, and that’s what he told me.  And now you’re acting like this and you’re making it worse.’

He continued to look shell-shocked, gaping at her.

‘The two of you need to talk.   _ Really _ talk,’ she said sternly.

His face immediately turned red.  ‘I can’t,’ he mumbled guiltily.

Hermione scowled.  ‘You’re going to have to, eventually.  It’s not right that Lucius nearly has a panic attack every time you look at him wrong.’

Draco looked at the floor glumly.  He couldn’t argue her point, but she could see that he still lacked the courage to actually do anything about it.

‘For now, you need to at least need to start paying attention to him again.  Did you even know his neck hurt and he was nauseated?’

He looked up sharply.  She nodded, raising her brows.

‘No, I…I didn’t know,’ he admitted softly, guilt flooding his face.

‘It was bad.  Luckily, I had the right potions with me, although who knows how long that has been going on.  His neck was the worst.  He couldn’t hide the pain, it was so bad.  Apparently, he fell asleep in a chair.  Did you know  _ that _ ?’ she asked, just a touch snidely.

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

‘Even if you can’t bring yourself to say what clearly  _ needs _ to be said, you still need to pay attention so he doesn’t run himself into the ground again.’

He nodded quickly.  ‘I didn’t mean to, I just felt so bad….’

She softened.  ‘I know.  But Lucius needs us both right now.  He’s still not quite ready to stand on his own two feet.  He needs to know we’re there for him.  I think that alone helps him.’

Draco nodded again, squaring his shoulders.  ‘I’ll do better.  Are you still coming over tomorrow night?’

She grinned.  ‘It’s either that or go to the Weasleys’ party with you.  Which do you think?’

‘Well, at least I know he won’t be alone,’ he said with a wry smile.  ‘I suppose we’d better  _ actually _ join the search party now.’

She sighed.  ‘I suppose.’

They were assailed by Harry and Mrs Weasley (trailed by a much calmer Ginny) as soon as they stepped out of the study.  Both of them looked frantic.

‘We can’t find them  _ anywhere _ !’ Mrs Weasley cried, wringing her hands.  ‘Do you think they went outside to fight?’

Hermione exchanged a glance with Draco.  ‘Lucius isn’t allowed outside,’ she said patiently, mentally adding  _ Yet _ .  ‘Did you check the library?  That’s Lucius’s usual haunt.’

‘Oh,’ said Harry, calming immediately.  ‘We didn’t think of that.’

Sighing, Hermione led the little procession to the library doors.  She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle, and she pressed a finger to her lips for silence before she let the others peek around her.

Lucius and Arthur were sitting at one of the reading tables, their heads bent together over a book.  Arthur was explaining the difference between Alternating Current and Direct Current, occasionally tapping some picture or passage in the book for reference, while Lucius listened intently, nodding along with an expression of concentration.  Neither of them were red or clenching their jaws.  


The little group silently withdrew.  Draco, Ginny and Mrs Weasley were completely gobsmacked, and didn’t speak even after they were back in the sitting room.

Harry just looked bemused.  ‘Well, I don’t think they’re killing each other today, then,’ he said ruefully.

Hermione let out the giggles she’d been holding in.  The sight of Arthur and Lucius voluntarily getting along,  _ alone _ , was one thing she’d never thought she’d see, and she felt very light, knowing such a thing was possible in the world.  It made her feel very hopeful.


	17. Tense Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Lucius continue to dance around their feelings--and each other. Draco grows more hostile--to everyone. After New Year's, Hermione meets with Kingsley; they improve Lucius's situation, and Kingsley reveals Lucius's secret activities. Hermione and Lucius celebrate that he only has 150 days left in his probation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly a bridge, and it was a pain in the butt. It did not want to be written, lol. The worst offender was the scene where Hermione breaks the news about Lucius's new probation restrictions. I really could not think of any other way that a feeling, thinking human being would react, so hopefully it works.
> 
> Anyway, here it is. Hermione is protective, Lucius is in a confused state of denial, Draco's being a jerk, and Kingsley is awesome. I hope you enjoy! :)

Lucius was waiting anxiously when Hermione arrived in their entrance hall, bouncing on the balls of his feet with a tense expression.  He immediately stepped forward to help her with the armful of goodies she’d brought, though, despite the wary glance he flicked at her face while he did it.  She pretended not to notice.

‘Thanks,’ she said with a smile.  ‘Did Draco already leave?’

He nodded tightly.  ‘Yes, and you should have told me the Weasleys have a New Year’s Eve party, I wouldn’t have--’

‘Lucius, remember how crazy I told you they get at Christmas?’

He frowned.  ‘Yes?’

‘Multiply that by about sixty for New Year’s,’ she said dryly, setting down her bag on the nearest end table when they reached the sitting room.  ‘Believe me, if you hadn’t invited me over instead, giving me a very handy excuse to not go to their party, I would have invited  _ myself _ over.  Last year, Mrs Weasley decided to party like it was 1999, since it was going to be at midnight, and she broke into the Firewhisky, and I have  _ zero _ desire to  _ ever _ see that again.  Plus, the twins go all out at New Year’s.  I don’t think I need to tell you that all sane people head for the hills.’

‘Oh.’  Lucius sat when she did, but she could see he was still puzzling this out.  ‘But Draco, and Potter, and all of your other friends went to the party,’ he said at length, in a very confused tone.

‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, Lucius, but Draco is insane,’ she said with mock sorrow, patting his hand.  ‘I never claimed the rest of my friends were sane.  If I were you, I would be prepared for anything when an--when Draco returns,’ she added, barely catching herself before she said ‘and if.’  Given Lucius’s paranoia about Draco leaving, that wasn’t a wise thing to say, even if it was just an expression.

He nodded seriously, his brows knit with some concern.  ‘Noted.’  He paused.  ‘Are you sure it’s  _ safe _ for my son to be dating a Weasley?’

Hermione laughed.  ‘I wouldn’t worry.  I dated one, and I survived mostly intact.  If there’s anything Draco knows, it’s survival, so he’ll be fine.  Besides, Ginny, despite all indications to the contrary, is actually one of the saner members of that clan.  She’ll protect him from the worst of it.’

He accepted that, although he continued to look faintly concerned for his only child’s wellbeing, and Hermione decided to distract him with food.  This had only failed once before, and it didn’t fail now.  Lucius immediately perked up when she unveiled the feast of Mexican cuisine she’d brought, going for the spiciest dishes like a heat-seeking missile.  He was less impressed by the bags of Muggle chocolates she’d stocked up on for just this occasion.

‘Do you really think we’re going to have room for all of this?’ he said dubiously between bites of burrito.

She smiled.  ‘That’s why New Year’s Day is leftovers day at my house.  That way I don’t have to cook.  And you may not be interested now, but trust me, that chocolate is going to start looking pretty tempting around ten o’clock, when the salt and spices have sunk in and you’re starting to get thirsty and tired.’

He made a face.  ‘That’s what champagne is for,’ he muttered.

She shrugged, not bothering to point out that alcohol is a depressant, so it wouldn’t help the tired part.  ‘Sorry, Draco said no.  I asked.  Apparently, you tried to sneak a second glass at Christmas?’

Lucius sulked openly, sinking a little in his chair.  ‘He should have taken up a career as a prison warden,’ he said with an edge that could’ve drawn blood.

She couldn’t hide a wince--the packet was still fresh in her mind--but fortunately, he was scowling at the floor and didn’t see it.

‘He’s just trying to look out for you,’ she said gently.  ‘It wasn’t pretty when you were drunk all the time.  I’m still kind of amazed your liver didn’t call it quits on you.’

He snorted, but she saw the flicker of a smile he was trying to hide.

‘So no champagne,  _ but _ I brought this strawberry soda stuff I saw when I was out buying the chocolates.  I have  _ no _ idea what it’s going to taste like, so we’ll find out together!’ she said, grinning.

He looked up then, giving in to the smile, and they were able to relax again while they ate.  They didn’t really talk about anything of real import, just mindless chit chat about this or that, but Hermione found herself completely engaged in everything he said anyway, even when all he said was that the real reason he didn’t like the Weird Sisters was because he couldn’t understand half of what they were scream-singing, the information going immediately into her brain as though it was a life-threateningly important fact that she needed to remember, which it was not.

After they had eaten more than any one person should probably put into the human stomach in one sitting, she busted out another board game.

‘Not Monopoly this time?’ he said, eyeing the box with interest.

Hermione shook her head.  ‘Nope,’ she said firmly.  ‘I wanted to bring a game I actually stood a fair chance of winning this time--Cluedo.’

He sat up a little straighter, his eyes sparkling in a most distracting way.  ‘You mean you didn’t enjoy being bankrupted twenty minutes into the game?’ he teased.

She smiled wryly.  ‘Oddly enough, no.  I don’t actually care whether I win or not, but it’s nice to know I’ve got  _ some _ chance, and I don’t have any chance at all playing Monopoly against you.  You Malfoys are too good at making money--even fake money, apparently.’

Lucius preened, looking impossibly smug, and she couldn’t help a chuckle.  It definitely helped his ego that she was easily crushed both times they played Monopoly, and while Draco put up an admirable fight, Lucius had still won both times.  Still, good for his ego or not, she needed a break from that for a while.

‘Okay, so Cluedo is sort of a detective-ish game,’ she explained as she got out the board.  ‘This rich person named Mr Boddy invited over some very suspiciously evil guests, and one of them killed him, with one of six weapons, in one of nine rooms.  The object of the game is to figure out who, with what, and where--before everyone else does.  It’s more fun if you have more than two players, but trust me, Crooks is very bad at this game.  Last time, he tried to eat Professor Plum.’

He flashed a grin, stealing her breath for a moment.  It took more effort than it should’ve to focus on setting up the game.  Lucius listened and watched intently as she set up and explained each aspect to him.

‘Hang on,’ he protested when she explained the Confidential folder.  ‘If you’re the dealer, how am I to trust you not to peek at the cards you’ve selected before you put them in there?’

Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes.  ‘Of the two of us, I’m the one who’s much less likely to cheat.  Gryffindor, remember?’

He didn’t argue that.  ‘That was before I destroyed you at Monopoly,’ he said stubbornly, although his eyes were gleaming with mischief, so she knew he didn’t really mean it.  ‘What if this is your revenge?’

She raised a brow.  ‘Do  _ you _ want to deal?’

‘Now we both know that’s not a good idea,’ he said dryly.  ‘I’m pretty much guaranteed to cheat.’

A slightly incredulous laugh bubbled out of her.  ‘At a  _ board _ game?  Is winning really that important?’

He raised a brow at her, mimicking her earlier wry expression.  ‘Slytherin, remember?’

She giggled.  ‘Right, sorry.  I forgot that you Malfoys love to win at  _ everything _ , more than a person probably should.  So what do you suggest, then?’

Lucius tipped his head back and forth, mulling it over.  ‘Well….’  He frowned a little.  ‘We could always have Tibby deal instead.’

She blinked, shocked into speechlessness for several seconds.  ‘You…you want your house elf to deal the cards for us?’ she said flatly.

She did not know how to react to this.

‘Yes?’ Lucius said tentatively, nervously chewing his lip.

She tapped the cards against the board.  ‘Well, how do I know you won’t just have Tibby tell you which cards they were?’

‘Oh, she won’t tell,’ he reassured her immediately.  ‘She’ll want me to lose, so she’d be more likely to tell  _ you _ than me.’

Hermione shook her head, sighing, dropping the cards.  ‘All right, fine.  If it makes you feel better.’

He called for Tibby, who appeared with a pop, looking at them expectantly.  Lucius quickly explained what he wanted her to do, but Hermione didn’t really hear the words, because she was busy being utterly shocked by the  _ way _ he was saying them.  He was… _ polite _ .  Almost deferent.  To a  _ house elf _ .

And Hermione couldn’t quite keep her mouth from dropping open when he finished with… _ please _ .

‘May Tibby watch afterward?’ the house elf asked with clear interest.

‘Of course, if you’d like,’ Lucius said in a rather friendly tone.

‘Then Tibby is happy to do this,’ she decided, snapping her fingers, and the cards began moving faster than the human eye could follow.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said politely.

Hermione stared at him, quite certain that she’d fallen into some kind of alternate dimension where pigs actually  _ did _ fly and Hell was most definitely frozen over.

He noticed her stare and squirmed, frowning self-consciously.  ‘What?’

She could not let this one go--there was no way.  She let a lot of things pass without comment for Lucius’s comfort, but this--

‘Did you just thank a house elf?’ she demanded, her voice choked and squeaky.

He squirmed again.  ‘Yes.’

‘No, I mean  _ you _ \--did  _ you _ , Lucius Malfoy, just  _ thank _ a  _ house elf _ ?’ she demanded again, her voice growing stronger.

Tibby looked between them, her ears flapping, but didn’t speak even though she’d finished with the cards.

Lucius’s cheeks were growing redder with each passing second, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.  ‘The answer is still yes,’ he said lowly and a bit defensively.

She was frozen for a moment, and then she hopped up and around the table, throwing her arms around his neck with a squeal.  He stiffened with surprise again for less than a second before clasping his arms around her waist and accepting the overly-enthusiastic hug.  She released him reluctantly when she remembered that he would need to breathe sooner or later, but couldn’t bring herself to leave the circle of his arms, her hip against the armrest, resting her hands on his shoulders and toying with the end of a lock of his hair.  He smiled, tipping his head back slightly to look up at her.

‘Oh, Lucius, I could just kiss you!’ she said breathlessly, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt.

His eyes darkened with something very different from fear or depression, darting to glance at her lips, and she might have forgotten herself and kissed the daylights out of him if Tibby hadn’t chosen that moment to get impatient.

She cleared her throat.  ‘Aren’t Miss Hermione and Master going to play the game?’ she asked pointedly.

Hermione broke out of his arms, her face burning.  ‘Oh, yes, of course.  Sorry.’  She returned to her seat and couldn’t look directly at Lucius for a while.  ‘So, which character do you want to be?’

‘Mr Green,’ he said, and she couldn’t read his tone.  It didn’t sound happy, though.

‘Great!  I’ll be--’  She was usually Miss Scarlet, when she played with Harry and Ron, but she didn’t think that was a great idea right now.  ‘I’ll be Mrs Peacock.’

They both gradually relaxed during the course of the game, helped by Tibby’s curiosity breaking any tense moments that might have developed.  Hermione won, crying out triumphantly when she revealed that her guess (Colonel Mustard, in the Lounge, with the Candlestick) had been correct.  Lucius toasted her with his strawberry soda (which turned out to be really weird but oddly good), smiling indulgently, and popped another chocolate in his mouth.  Despite his earlier wariness of them, she’d noted about halfway through the game that he was unwrapping them and eating them at almost the same pace she was, but she decided not to comment, figuring she’d embarrassed him quite enough for one day.

‘Another round?’ Hermione asked, grinning.

Tibby bounced excitedly.  ‘May Tibby play this time, too?’ she squeaked.

Hermione was surprised, but she shrugged.  ‘Sure, it’s all right with me.’

Lucius blinked at Tibby, but after a moment, he shrugged, too.  ‘If you would like.  What character would you like to play?’

Tibby considered the board with comical seriousness, one of her ears twitching.  ‘Tibby will be Mrs White,’ she said firmly in her squeaky, scratchy little voice.

Hermione smiled and suppressed an eye-roll and a sigh.  It just figured that the house elf would want to play the maid.  Lucius smirked at her, and she knew he knew what she was thinking.  She stuck her tongue out at him, which only made him smirk some more, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

It was, as she’d noted, better with more than two players, and the game went a little slower and was more challenging now that Tibby had joined in--particularly since she was  _ extremely _ reluctant to show her cards, even though it was occasionally part of the game to share information.  It came as no surprise when she won, since she’d deliberately withheld a vital piece of information (the fact that she had the Wrench card) that would otherwise have allowed Lucius to win.  Hermione was still stuck on the room at that point.

To Hermione’s surprise, Lucius didn’t get angry or snap at Tibby, merely applauding her and offering her one of their chocolates, shooting a wink at Hermione.  She smiled slowly, her throat closing as her heart swelled, full of joy and love for the wonderful man before her.  She even teared up, and had to blink them away before they could collect.

Tibby excused herself after that game, losing interest now that she’d ‘defeated’ them, and Lucius politely declined when Hermione offered to play another round.

‘I can only take losing so many times in one night,’ he said wryly, acknowledging his competitive nature.

She shot him another tender smile--they both knew perfectly well that he would’ve won the previous round if Tibby hadn’t cheated--but she didn’t push it, packing the board up with his help.

‘Now a wizard game,’ Lucius said imperiously, and sat cross-legged on the floor, removing something from his pocket.

Hermione blinked away the strangeness of  _ Lucius _ sitting like a kid,  _ on the floor _ , and joined him, laughing when she realised he was setting up Exploding Snap.

He merely grinned at her laughter.  ‘I haven’t played since I was in school,’ he confided, somewhat excitedly.

She shook her head, giggling despite her efforts to squelch it.  She’d never really liked Exploding Snap (what was fun about a game that blew up in your face?), but she couldn’t deny him, not when he was so happy.

‘Neither have I,’ she said, ‘and you might have to remind me of the rules.’

He did so very willingly, and even though she hadn’t learned to like Exploding Snap in the last eight years or so, she enjoyed watching him enjoy it, which was almost the same.  He won, which made him even happier, and Hermione figured that made it worth getting her fingers singed a few times.

Lucius was yawning by the time they cleaned that up, so they relocated to the sofa, occasionally murmuring something or other to each other, but mostly just silently enjoying the company, watching the fire snapping in the hearth.  Hermione was not at all surprised when Lucius nodded off around eleven; she smiled to herself and rearranged him more comfortably so he wouldn’t wake up with another neckache.  He didn’t stir, and she moved to one of the armchairs, watching him sleep and trying to convince herself that she was only watching for nightmares.

A half hour later, Ginny quietly crept in, a bleary-eyed Draco in tow.

‘He’ll never make it to midnight,’ she whispered.

‘Will so,’ Draco slurred, and nearly tipped over.  ‘Whoa.’

Hermione shook her head and got up to help put him to bed.  He put up a few token protests, but as soon as they had him horizontal on the bed, he was asleep, his mouth gaping open unattractively (although Ginny seemed to think it was cute, judging by her expression).

‘Lucius didn’t make it, either,’ Hermione said quietly as they tiptoed back downstairs.  ‘He fell asleep a little while ago.’

Ginny shook her head, frowning.  ‘I hope this is not an indicator of Malfoy stamina in  _ other _ areas of life,’ she said darkly, and Hermione choked on her own spit and turned bright red, which, of course, only amused Ginny.

They settled into the library so they wouldn’t disturb Lucius and talked until midnight (thankfully not about the theorised sexual prowess of the Malfoys, as Hermione had feared).  When the clock struck twelve, she and Ginny kissed each other on the cheek and toasted with their hot cocoas.

‘Happy New Year!’ Ginny said with a grin.

‘Happy New Year,’ she agreed, smiling.

Ginny set down her empty cup and rose, stretching.  ‘I think I’m going to crash here.  They have enough spare rooms.’

Hermione nodded, yawning.  ‘Me, too.  I’d rather not venture through the Floo tonight.’

She agreed immediately, pulling a face at the prospect, and stumbled off to find a room.  Hermione cleaned up a bit first, and went back to the sitting room to check on Lucius again.

He was partially curled up on his side, as was his habit, and frowning in his sleep, although his features smoothed when she gave in to the impulse to comb a stray lock of hair back from his face, gently threading her fingers through and lightly brushing his cheek.  He’d had a death grip on the cushion, and that, too, eased when she touched him.

Hermione wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was simple hunger for  _ any _ kind human touch.  After everything he’d been through, even a Weasley giving him a gentle pat might have eased his tension and soothed his fear.  It was  _ unlikely _ , granted, but it was possible.

It was very hard for her to remove her hand.  He was  _ visibly _ soothed by her ministrations, and seeing his kindness toward Tibby, a creature he’d disdained completely only four months ago, had only stoked her growing love for him.  She wondered how long he’d been treating his house elves with a little more care--Tibby certainly hadn’t seemed surprised to be thanked, which she would have expected if this was the first occurrence.  And why had he changed his habits?  To get better treatment from them?  To impress Hermione?  Did it really matter?

No, she decided, it didn’t.  Whatever his reasons, Lucius had materially and truly changed for the better, and she did not care why.  She loved him so much she could hardly breathe.  There was no room for anything else at this moment, not even the guilt for loving him.

At last, somewhat shakily, she located a blanket and laid it over him (and he snuggled into it with a little whimper, tugging at her heartstrings), and then she forced herself to go upstairs.

Once up the stairs, though, she faced a new challenge.  The door to Lucius’s room was open, and it was more than a little tempting to ‘accidentally’ choose that room, to curl up in his sheets, to breathe his scent on his pillow….

Hermione stood frozen in the doorway for five minutes before her better sense reasserted itself.  What if she got caught?  Would the excuse of not knowing it was his room hold up?  Probably not.  Worse, what if she got caught by  _ Lucius _ , returning to his bed after waking in the middle of the night?  No, it was a horrible idea.

She continued down the hallway to the guest room that had been hers while she was there for Christmas, where she changed into the pyjamas she’d brought along just in case and laid awake for a long time, hugging the extra pillow and staring into space.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius woke because he could faintly hear other voices, as though people were talking in another room, and also because something smelled delicious.  His stomach growled, waking him up a little more, although how he could  _ possibly _ be hungry after the ridiculous amount of food he’d eaten last night was beyond him, and he realised that the voices were echoing from somewhere, probably the dining room.  In the manner of most sensible people, he decided to listen to his stomach, and sat up.  That was when he realised someone had put a blanket over him at some point; he smiled instantly at the thought that it was probably Hermione.

He felt very rested again, so there was no stumbling or yawning as he followed the voices to the dining room, although he did have to rub away some sleep-crust from his eyes.  Draco and Ginny both looked in much worse shape than he did when he stepped in the room--Draco was half-asleep over his plate, propped up on one hand while the other held his fork up, a neglected piece of ham sitting on it.  He seemed more interested in staring at it than eating it.  Ginny wasn’t quite  _ that _ bad, but she was glowering at her plate as she nursed a cup of what looked and smelled like  _ very _ strong coffee, the dark circles under her eyes making the glare even more ferocious.

Lucius promptly decided he probably shouldn’t talk to either of them unless they spoke to him first, and he turned to Hermione instead.   _ She _ was radiant, smiling beautifully at him as she set a place for him.

‘Good morning!’ she said brightly.  ‘I hope you’re hungry, I made enough breakfast to feed half of Hogwarts.’

‘Good morning,’ he replied, settling into his spot--at the head of the table, he realised suddenly.  She’d somehow convinced, cajoled or threatened Draco into sitting to his left, instead.  He shot her a bright smile.  ‘I’m starving, actually.  Although I’m not quite certain how that’s possible.  I thought my stomach was going to erupt last night.’

Hermione chuckled, scooping some eggs onto his plate.  ‘I thought mine was, too.  It’s weird, but I’m always hungrier the next morning after overeating the night before.  I think it stretches your stomach out.’

He hummed his agreement with this theory because his mouth was full.  She merely looked amused and sat on his right side with her own plate.

‘Which half?’ he asked when he had to pause for breath.

‘Hmm?’

‘Which half of Hogwarts would it feed?’ he asked, smiling and twirling his fork.

Hermione grinned.  ‘The girls, naturally,’ she replied, not taking the bait.  ‘For the boys, this would just be an appetiser.’

Lucius chuckled and shook his head, conceding defeat.

‘So what time did  _ you _ fall asleep?’ Ginny suddenly asked in a half-growl.

He hesitated.  ‘I don’t know?  Sometime after ten-thirty, I think.’

Draco snored, and Ginny elbowed him sharply.  He woke up just before he would have painfully met the table, but his fork clattered to the ground.  Hermione passed him another without looking up from her food.

Lucius stiffened as Ginny continued to glower at him.  ‘I am sorry that I faltered in my duties as host,’ he said tersely.  ‘I hope the two of you were able to adequately entertain yourselves in my absence.’

He took another bite, dismissing her, and that turned out to be a mistake.

‘Yeah, we entertained each other just fine,’ she said sharply.  ‘We played Truth or Dare, and at midnight, Hermione and I made out.’

He immediately choked on the bite.  Draco stared at Ginny with horror, rapidly reddening.  Hermione had been in the midst of taking a drink, and she sprayed the table with orange juice, turning more than a little red herself.

‘You  _ what _ ?!’ Draco half-shrieked.

‘Ginny!’ Hermione squeaked, coughing.

Lucius pounded his chest with his fist, coughing on the lodged food.  Fortunately, it was only a bit of egg, so it budged after another moment.

Ginny grinned wickedly.

‘You didn’t!’ Draco cried, and he was definitely awake now.

‘We didn’t,’ Hermione said quickly.  ‘She’s just being--Ginny,  _ why _ ??  I dated your brother, that’s just gross!’

She smirked into her hash browns, seeming to grow an appetite now.  ‘All right, fine, so we didn’t make out.  You should’ve seen your faces!’

Draco scowled.  ‘That was  _ mean _ .  You’re just  _ mean _ !’

She shot him an evil, unrepentant grin, and he rolled his eyes at her.

Hermione sighed.  ‘Ginny, you’re the worst.’

The redhead bounced in her seat a little and looked quite pleased with herself.  Lucius very,  _ very _ cautiously started eating again, although he kept a wary eye on her in case she opened her mouth again.

His heart rate was only just beginning to settle, and only part of it was from nearly choking to death.  The other part had been stark terror at an idea he had never even considered--that Hermione might be a lesbian, that he might be reading her signals  _ all  _ wrong, that she could never return his feelings in the same way.  Even if he hadn’t been choking, he still would’ve stopped breathing for a moment at the idea that he was physically attracted to someone who wouldn’t ever look at him that way.

Friendship was all well and good, but a very large part of Lucius was no longer content with that--he wanted  _ more _ .  He just wasn’t sure she reciprocated, and until he passed her class, he was too afraid to try to find out.  At least she seemed to be straight after all, if her reaction to the idea of making out with Ginny was any indication, so at the  _ very _ least, the possibility was still there.

After breakfast, Hermione quickly pulled Lucius into the sitting room, since Draco didn’t seem inclined to move any time soon, and Ginny was getting her things together to leave.  Hermione seemed to be annoyed with her, but she didn’t express it toward him.  She had the same thing on her mind that he did, apparently.

‘There’s--there’s nothing going on between me and Ginny,’ she said without preamble, looking over his shoulder instead of at his face.  ‘I’m straight.  She’s just--she’s not a morning person, so she can be kind of evil in the mornings, and also, she’s crazy.’

Lucius inwardly relaxed at this confirmation from her--she  _ was _ straight.  Not exactly a green light for him, but a much better situation than if she had turned out to be gay, with Ron and Victor being pre-realisation relationships.

‘Yes, I got that,’ he said dryly.  ‘Are you  _ absolutely sure _ it’s safe for my son to be dating a Weasley?’

Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a wry smile.  ‘I don’t know, Lucius, I really don’t know.  I think they get crazier with age.  I’m beginning to wonder if we’re safe even being  _ around _ them.’

‘They must get it from the Prewett side of the family.  Molly is insane, too, but Arthur is fairly level-headed.  Most of the time.’

She smiled.  ‘Yes, most of the time.  Except when Mrs Weasley instigates something.’

‘Then it’s still her insanity, not his,’ he said ruefully.  ‘It just sucks everyone in, like a vacuum cleaner.’

Her smile broadened into a full-fledged grin, and she met Lucius’s eyes, finally.  A part of him that had been tense uncoiled, his own smile coming easier.

‘Well,’ she said softly, ‘I guess I’d better be going.  I promised Harry and Neville that I’d help them recover from whatever havoc the twins had wrought.’

He raised a brow.  ‘But not Ron?’

She shook her head, smirking.  ‘They’re  _ his _ brothers.  If he hasn’t learnt how to deal with them by now, then there’s no help for him.’

A prickle of jealousy he hadn’t even realised was there was soothed a bit, although it didn’t disappear.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he said quietly.  ‘I haven’t…that was quite enjoyable.’

He bit his tongue before he could blurt out his primary thought-- _ Please don’t leave.  Or if you do leave, take me with you. _  He couldn’t, of course, even if she was willing, but he felt a strong pull to stay by her side, an irrational desire to follow wherever she went.

She smiled warmly, in that new, gentle way she had of looking at him that made his breath come short.

‘I agree,’ she said kindly.  ‘Thank you for inviting me.’

‘You’re welcome.’   _ Please don’t leave.  Please don’t leave.  They can fend for themselves, but I need you…. _

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.  ‘I’ll see you soon, Lucius.’

‘Goodbye,’ he said sorrowfully.

Hermione touched his cheek, just below where she’d kissed it a moment before, and looked at him in a sad, weary way, like she knew everything he thought and felt and she was sorry for it all.  Then she was gone, leaving only a whiff of mahogany and old books behind.

‘Father!’ Draco called peevishly.

Lucius sighed.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was nearly run over by an excitedly bouncing Justin Finch-Fletchley on her way to see Kingsley on Tuesday.

‘Ow!  Sorry!’ he cried, clumsily steadying her with one hand.  His other arm was full of book--one thick, crusty tome that smelled strongly of mould.  ‘Oh!  Hi, Hermione!  Sorry, didn’t see you there.’

Her brows raised.  ‘So I noticed.  What’s got you so worked up?’

He clutched the book, grinning, his hair flopping with each bounce.  ‘ _ This _ \--it’s the book I’ve been searching for!  It arrived over the break--there was no note, but  _ someone _ found my book!’

‘That’s--’  He was already gone, bouncing down the hallway.  ‘Great,’ she finished lamely, then shrugged, continuing on her way.

Kingsley was expecting her this time, so he greeted her with a smile and an offer of tea before getting down to business.  They settled into the armchairs set up to one side of his office; she nervously sipped her tea while he read her proposal.  His poker face was perfect--she couldn’t tell what he was thinking at all.

At last, he set it aside, smiling.

She nearly collapsed with relief.  ‘It’s doable?’

‘Oh, it’s more than doable,’ he said amiably, reaching for his own cup.  ‘If anyone tries to give me any trouble, I’ve got a few pieces of information that will shut them up quite nicely.’

Hermione straightened, frowning.  ‘Did one of the guards talk?’

He sighed.  ‘Not yet.  Pickett is blissfully unaware, for the moment, and I’d like to keep it that way.  Ballard was a Death Eater, which probably explains why he let Malfoy suffer--as punishment for failing--but he was killed in the war.  Galloway was neutral, but he was also killed.  Given that he didn’t have strong loyalties either way, I gather that he must have been some kind of sadist.  Cooper was another Death Eater, and he’s in Azkaban.  I have a feeling he’s our best bet for information, given that we can offer him things like extra privileges or even a commuted sentence, but I haven’t had a chance to pay him a visit and feel him out.  Porter was, apparently, on our side, and he’s currently working as a Ministry security guard--a step up from Azkaban, and his reward for fighting for our side, from what I understand.  I don’t want to tip any of them off, so questioning any one of them will take some delicacy.’

She nodded her understanding.  ‘Then what kind of information are you referring to?’

A wide, toothy smile spread across Kingsley’s face.  ‘I’m referring to my information about what our dear Mr Malfoy himself has been up to.’

Hermione blinked.  ‘What…?’

Kingsley looked smug.  ‘He’s still pretty sly, but he doesn’t have  _ quite _ as good connections as he had before.  Still, I probably wouldn’t have known he was up to anything, if he hadn’t started lining a few pockets and stroking a few egos here in the Ministry--well, as best he can using only the Floo and an occasional owl.  After I figured out he was doing a bit of poking about, it was easy to trace him.’

She wondered if she should be worried….  ‘What did he do?’

‘Oh, Mr Malfoy has done a great deal.  For starters, he’s donated about a million Galleons so far to the Muggle-born Aid Fund--right under Draco’s nose, if the lack of his signature on any of the Gringotts receipts is any indication--and he keeps funneling in small anonymous donations at a steady rate.  And by small, I mean thousand-Galleon drops at a time.’

Hermione’s mouth fell open.

‘He also arranged with the goblins to pay off Dean Thomas’s mortgage, secretly created a grant to pay for Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander’s research, and I have it on good authority that he is the one who donated the bulk of the money Dennis Creevey raised to start his wizarding orphanage--disguised as a series of smaller, anonymous donations, of course,’ he said with visible admiration.  ‘No one would have ever known, if he hadn’t decided to stop dealing exclusively with the goblins and started nosing around the Ministry.’

She swallowed with difficulty.  ‘What is he up to?’

Kingsley shrugged.  ‘He’s mostly focusing on the financial department so far, but I haven’t figured out what his goal is yet.  I’m monitoring the situation, but given that all of Mr Malfoy’s underhanded dealings thus far have been benevolent, I’m not too worried about it, just curious.’

Hermione made a vague sound of acknowledgement.  She felt as though the world had shifted suddenly under her feet, and she hadn’t quite recovered yet.

Filch’s new cat, Dean and his wife, Luna and her Rolf, all of it was Lucius--and he’d helped Dennis and a good charity without any of them knowing.  Even Draco--she was sure he would have said something if he’d known even a hint of it.  Although, with Lucius donating such large sums, he would probably notice the activity in their accounts sooner or later, even though it would hardly make a dent in their vast fortune.  And Justin!  She remembered suddenly the odd interest Lucius had shown when the topic of Justin’s research problems came up, and she was absolutely certain that he had sought out the book Justin needed and sent it to him in secret.

Kingsley sat back with a self-satisfied expression, the movement rousing her from her thoughts.  ‘Anyway, all of those little secret, altruistic good deeds will back up Mr Malfoy’s case quite nicely if I run into any resistance.  Not that I expect to--that packet is pretty damning.’

She nodded solemnly in agreement.  The mental images haunted her day and night, ready to pounce on her if she showed a moment’s vulnerability.  She’d had to clear her mind before sleeping every night since reading the packet.

She forcefully halted that line of thought, drawing her mind back to the topic at hand.  She had already planned her next order of business before she learned of Lucius’s secret do-gooding crusade, but now she was more determined than ever to protect him in every way she could.  He’d made so much progress--yet he was still so fragile.  She could not-- _ would  _ not--let him go back to Azkaban now, not for any reason, but  _ especially _ not over her inappropriate feelings for him.

‘Kingsley…I have another favour to ask,’ she began haltingly.  Her insides were shrivelling at the thought of losing Kingsley’s respect--but Lucius’s safety was not negotiable.  She would do whatever it took.  ‘I’ve been saving copies of Lucius’s homework after I’ve graded it.  I was wondering if you’d have someone look them over and approve them, just in case--if we were accused of any…impropriety, for any reason, then Lucius wouldn’t….’

He was smiling knowingly.  ‘I’ve been expecting you to ask something like that since the Malfoys’ party.  You were talking to me, but looking at him,’ he said with a deep chuckle.  ‘Actually, you barely took your eyes off him all night.’

Hermione stared at him in open-mouthed horror, the blood draining from her face, prompting another rumbling chuckle.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else noticed,’ he said reassuringly.  ‘You were pretty discreet.  I’m an Auror, so I’m trained to observe, and I’ve got years of experience.  I don’t think even Lucius himself noticed--I think you’re safe.’

She swirled her now-cold tea glumly.  ‘I’d still feel better if you had someone double-check for me.’

Kingsley patted her arm.  ‘Send the copies to my office, and I’ll have someone competent in the Muggle world triple-check them for favouritism.  I’d hate to see you lose your job over any false accusations.’

She peered at him hopefully.  ‘Then you don’t think that Lucius and I--’

He laughed.  ‘Hermione, I don’t know or care what you and Lucius Malfoy are or are not getting up to--I just know  _ you _ .  Even if you were having sex with him on your desk after class, you wouldn’t allow your personal feelings to interfere with your professional duties--and you would  _ never _ accept sexual favours for higher marks.’

Hermione smiled gratefully, warming at the thought that he respected her so highly.  ‘Thanks.  If everyone felt that way, I wouldn’t even worry about it, but….’

She trailed off, shrugging.  Kingsley nodded his understanding.

‘I also know you like to have every T crossed and every box checked,’ he teased with a fond smile.  ‘Like I said, just send the copies to me and I’ll have it taken care of.’

‘Thanks, Kingsley.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Once upon a time, Lucius hadn’t wanted any Weasleys in his house, or any Potters, or Grangers, or Lovegoods, or Longbottoms.  Then he had wanted a particular Granger in his house, but none of the rest.  Then, he’d grown to enjoy  _ some _ of their company, and tolerate the rest, and even the ones he didn’t particularly want to see, he enjoyed having in his house, because for a few hours, the place was full of boisterous talk and laughter (which sometimes got to be overwhelming for him, but it was still better than being all alone).

Now, he felt like he’d  _ almost _ gone full circle--he wanted the Weasleys, Potter, crazy girl, and Neville to leave.  He even wanted  _ Draco _ to leave, because apparently, New Year’s Eve alone with Hermione had spoiled him.  Despite a brief interruption from Tibby, Lucius had had Hermione’s complete and undivided attention the entire evening.  It was rather intoxicating.

But  _ now _ , it was Thursday, and there were all these  _ people _ , and they kept talking to Hermione, drawing her attention away from him.  He found himself feeling rather jealous and sulking a bit as those  _ boys _ kept talking to her and making her laugh.  She barely spoke to him or looked at him, because they kept her occupied.  Even at the table, they kept stealing her attention.  It made him feel uncomfortably like a teenaged boy again, a feeling he did not like and was not at all proud of, but he couldn’t seem to dislodge the jealous desire to carry her off to the library and lock the doors so he could have her to himself.  He wanted to be the most important to her.

The worst part of it all was that Lucius wasn’t entirely certain where these feelings had come from.  Friendship had been enough a few weeks ago.  He hadn’t felt this primitive, caveman possessiveness on New Year’s Day, when he’d been sharing her attention with Draco and Ginny, and that was only a week ago.

Of course, he hadn’t seen Hermione much since then.  Classes would be starting again soon, so she’d been off preparing for the new term.  She hadn’t come at all for a few days, and when she  _ had _ stopped by, they’d been brief visits to share a meal with him, and then she’d been off again.  Lucius had alternated between moping and pacing the house with a growing restlessness, a feeling like a spring coiling tighter and tighter taking up residence in his middle.  Draco had snapped at him about it that very morning, but he couldn’t help himself--it was either pace or go completely mad.

That coiled-spring feeling was still with him now, and he felt oddly tense and feverish as the night wore on and he continued to get nothing more than a brief smile here and there.  He noted with a strange sense of detachment that his hands were actually shaking.

Hermione took him by surprise, though-- _ she _ dragged  _ him _ off to the library after a few hours, although she didn’t lock the doors, she just shut them.  Lucius deliberately put some space between them, a little worried about setting her off again.  They’d been in the library, alone, the last time he’d triggered her sometimes-latent fear of him.  As crazy and off-kilter as he felt right now, it would be easier than ever to accidentally startle her.

‘Lucius, look at me,’ she said softly, and he realised he’d been staring very hard at the floor, clenching and unclenching his hands.

‘No,’ he said tightly.

He heard her take a few steps toward him and backed away until he hit the desk.  She didn’t come closer then, probably not wishing to make him feel cornered.  He let out a shaky breath.

‘I’m sorry I’ve been busy lately,’ she said in that same soft, gentle tone.

Like she was calming a wild animal, he realised, huffing out a breathy laugh.  Perhaps that’s what he was, because it seemed to be working--the tension was easing, the feverish feeling fading.  The coiled-spring feeling remained, though, and he had to try to breathe around it.

‘I haven’t been seeing much of  _ anyone _ recently--which is why everyone’s trying to hog me,’ she added, a smile in her voice.  ‘Term starts in a week.  Things will get back to normal then.  I promise.’

Lucius stiffened his spine.  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he forced out, but he still couldn’t look at her.  ‘I’m fine.  I can function without you, you know.’

‘I know you can.  But it’s always nicer to have company, isn’t it?’ she said, and he detected a hopeful note, as though she needed reassurance from  _ him _ , rather than the other way around.

That eased the last of the tension he’d collected that evening; he breathed out more steadily.

‘Yes,’ he agreed quietly.

It took some effort, but he was finally able to lift his head to look at her, forcing a tentative smile.  She smiled at him warmly, with that new look in her eye that he still couldn’t identify.

‘Besides, this Sunday is all yours,’ she said brightly.

Lucius perked up instantly.  ‘It is?’

‘Of course!  January 9--it’s 150 Days Left in Your Probation Day, right?’

He chuckled.  ‘Oh--I forgot all about that.  I suppose you’re right.’

He was actually surprised to realise it--he’d completely forgotten about crossing off the days on his calendar and keeping count at some point.

Hermione’s eyes twinkled.  ‘Well, then, it’s lucky I’m keeping track for you, isn’t it?’

‘Very lucky.’  He watched her cheeks grow pink, and wondered how she was still single--she was the most beautiful person he’d ever met.  ‘Can we have Mexican on Sunday?’

She laughed.  ‘Of course, if that’s what you want.’

He wanted a great deal more than that, but he’d settle for Mexican food and her company for as long as she was willing.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Sunday was a lovely, relaxed day full of food and conversation, and the occasional board game (Hermione had brought Cluedo  _ and _ Monopoly this time, and Lucius was quite pleased because he won at both of them this time).  The only problem would have been Draco, who was still acting sullen and snappish around Lucius, but Hermione arrived, took one look at Draco’s scowl and Lucius’s kicked-puppy expression (not that he’d admit to having such an expression), and sent Draco off to spend the day with Ginny instead.  To Hermione’s surprise, Lucius actually didn’t seem to mind--in fact, he seemed almost chipper after she returned from the entrance hall alone and announced that Draco wouldn’t be joining them for the rest of the day.  She worried that it meant Draco had been worse than ever, and made a mental note to have another little chat with him.  Making Lucius fear his presence wouldn’t actually cure Lucius’s fear of abandonment, if that’s what Draco thought he was doing.  If not, she had no idea what he was thinking.

The best part of the day, though, was after supper, when she gave him his presents.  One of them she’d had to dig around in her closet to find; the other had been given to her by Kingsley with great solemnity on Saturday morning.

‘You got me presents?’ Lucius said blankly when she set the first little package in front of him.

She grinned.  ‘Only two.  And this one’s really nothing.  It’s more of a joke than anything else.  Just humour me, would you?’

He raised a brow at her, but obediently ripped off the bright paper and opened the little box.  His forehead immediately wrinkled with confusion.

‘Spew?’ he said, holding up the button.

Hermione giggled.  ‘S-P-E-W.  Not spew.  It’s an acronym.’

Lucius blinked.  ‘An acronym for what?’

‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ she said wryly.  ‘It was a little activism I tried when I was in school, after I found out about house elves.  It might have been a good idea, if I’d taken into account what the house elves thought was good for their welfare, and not been so set on my  _ own _ ideas.  They really start hating you after a few months of trying to trick them into taking clothes, you know?’

He looked distinctly amused.  ‘No, I didn’t know.’

‘Well, trust me, they don’t like it.  But I was determined!  I even took up knitting.’

He sputtered out a laugh.  ‘You’re kidding!’

‘I wish I was,’ she said, grinning at her own youthful foolishness.  ‘I made piles and piles of hats and socks and things.  None of them wanted them, but I refused to believe they could actually be happy without being free.  It’s still rather baffling, to be honest, but I’ve learned to let it go.  Anyway, your kindness to Tibby the other day made me think of S.P.E.W. again, so I found one of the old pins to make you an honorary member,’ she added teasingly.

Lucius shook his head, still looking extremely amused.  ‘Well, thank you.  I think.’

She noted, though, that he didn’t chuck it immediately.  He was probably going to wait to throw it away until she was gone, and she was probably more touched by that than she should’ve been.

‘Okay, the second one’s serious,’ she said, forcing her expression into one of solemnity.

She hadn’t wrapped it, just carefully slid the papers into an envelope.  He took the envelope from her warily.  She watched anxiously as the wariness faded, replaced by plain shock as he read the papers.

‘Hermione?’ he choked when he’d read both of them.

His eyes begged her for this to be real, and tears sprang to her eyes despite her stern order to herself  _ not _ to cry.

‘It’s real, Lucius,’ she said in a voice that just wouldn’t stop wobbling.  ‘Kingsley and I got the terms of your probation changed.  On Monday morning, two Aurors are going to come and they’re going to remove the wards preventing you from opening the windows, and the ones that alert the Ministry if you go out in your gardens.  As long as you don’t leave the property, you can go outside whenever you want after they leave.  And you can have a pass to go on unsupervised visits to Hogsmeade or London or Paris or wherever you want to go, anytime you want, all you have to do is submit a written request ahead of time and a pass will be delivered.’

He set the papers down.  She could see him shaking.

‘So…basically, I’m free of everything except the class and not having a wand,’ he said in an odd, flat voice she’d never heard before.

She watched him carefully.  ‘Yes.’

He looked at her with tentative hope.  ‘I can go outside whenever I want, from now on.’

‘After the Aurors take the appropriate wards down tomorrow, yes.’

She’d seen him cry a little once before, but it didn’t at all prepare her for Lucius Malfoy abruptly bursting into tears--joyful, desperately relieved tears, but still.  He covered his face with his hands, fighting for control of himself, but it wouldn’t come.  Her heart overflowed with tenderness.  She’d been prepared for just about every reaction but this one, so she had no way of resisting the urge to pull him into her arms when it hit.  He melted into her and gave over to the tears, burying his face in her shoulder.  He was saying something over and over again, but it took her a while to figure out what.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,’ he was croaking, over and over and over.

Hermione sniffled and held him tighter.  ‘Oh, darling,’ she murmured.  ‘Lucius.  You don’t have to thank me.  Just restoring a basic human right, that’s all.  Nobody should be caged inside all the time.’

He let out a little sob and stopped talking, trembling against her.  The tears dried up after a little while, but he seemed in no hurry to move, simply lying there in her arms and breathing.  She carded her fingers through his hair and let him be, for as long as he wanted.

That turned out to be a very long time.  She’d progressed to idly braiding the hair on one side of his head (he didn’t seem to mind) before the peace was shattered.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Draco exploded as soon as he set foot in the sitting room.

Hermione glanced at the clock.  It was quite late, but really, there was no need for that kind of explosion.  However, Lucius opened his mouth before she could tell Draco so.

‘I get to go outside,’ he said simply, as though that explained everything.

She smiled and started threading her fingers through the loose braids she’d made, shaking them out.

‘And…?’ Draco snapped, sneering.  ‘That called for a cuddle?’

Lucius thought for a moment.  ‘Yes.’

Draco could turn very interesting shades of red, she noted.  His hands were clenched into fists and he was grinding his teeth.  She thought about telling him that was really bad for his teeth and jaw, but Lucius seemed to be handling himself, so she decided to keep mum for the time being.

‘Just because you get to go out for a day or two again is no reason to suddenly start smothering Hermione,’ Draco snarled.  ‘What happened to your sense of dignity?’

Much to Hermione’s amusement, Lucius did not accept that chastisement--instead, he deliberately snuggled closer to her, making a show of wriggling into a more comfortable position.  She bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as he wound an arm around her waist.

‘It’s not for a day or two,’ he said stubbornly, ‘it’s forever and ever, whenever I want.  I’m entirely too pleased about that at the moment to give a damn whether or not I am behaving in a dignified manner.  I can always be embarrassed later.  So far, Hermione has issued no complaints.  And finally, what seems to be the matter, Draco?  I hardly think walking in on us cuddling is reason enough for such a violent reaction.’

Draco fumed.  ‘This isn’t about me.  Get off her.’

Lucius clung to her.  ‘ _ No _ !’ he said, pouting.

She found it extremely amusing that Lucius had apparently decided to be stubborn just for the sake of being stubborn, despite his son’s obvious mood.  Draco continued to  _ not _ be amused, but Hermione cut him off when he opened his mouth again.  She didn’t want to risk him ruining Lucius’s somewhat light and mischievous mood.

‘I’m right here, Draco.  Have you heard me voice any protests?  If I minded, he wouldn’t be on top of me right now.  So, unless you have some flowers or sparkly objects I can braid into his hair, please take your sour mood elsewhere.’

Lucius lifted his head enough to grin at her.  She smiled back, but the glimpse of his face made her wonder exactly how blind Draco was--Lucius’s face was still puffy and red from crying, his eyes slightly bloodshot, with dried tear tracks on his cheeks.  Upon seeing this blatant evidence, how had he found it in him to start yelling and being antagonistic?  Perhaps ‘have a chat’ would be more like ‘slap some sense into him,’ instead, in this case.

Draco looked for a moment like he might argue, but finally he just made a disgusted noise and stalked out.  Lucius let out a soft sigh and settled back down.  Hermione started her braids over, a little smaller this time.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius murmured after a while.

She paused.  ‘Hey, anytime you need your hair braided, I could use the practise,’ she joked.

She felt more than heard his small chuckle, the moist air puffing across her neck.

‘No, I meant for--for helping make him go away,’ he said quietly.  ‘He’s been very hostile lately, and I can’t seem to appease him no matter what I do.  I wish he would tell me why he’s so angry.’

Hermione sighed.  ‘Draco isn’t angry with  _ you _ , Lucius,’ she admitted uncomfortably.  ‘He’s angry with himself.’

A pause.  ‘He has an odd way of showing it.’

The hand on her back started moving, the individual fingers making their own circles.  She focused on her braiding as hard as she could.

‘He wants to tell you something,’ she said reluctantly, not really sure she should be saying anything, but  _ definitely _ sure that she couldn’t let Lucius go on feeling like he’d done something wrong, when recently he’d been doing everything  _ right _ .  ‘He just doesn’t know how to say it.’

She felt it when Lucius started trembling--it would’ve been hard not to, with him lying half on top of her--and sighed inwardly.

‘Something bad?’ he asked in a whisper.

‘No.  It’s not really good or bad.  It’s just something the two of you need to talk about, sometime, and Draco’s afraid he’ll never have the courage to approach you.’  She paused, frowning.  ‘I think he’s got something else on his mind, too--something about Ginny.  He’s been very jumpy whenever she comes up in conversation.  I keep waiting for him to tell me what the trouble is, but he hasn’t.  Perhaps he’s tired of her and wants to break up, but he’s afraid of losing all his friends if he does?  I don’t know.  I just know it’s making him very edgy, and somewhat snappish with everyone but Ginny.’  She patted Lucius’s shoulder.  ‘So don’t worry, it’s not just you.  He’s just being a bit of wanker right now.’

He huffed out a surprised laugh, and he stopped trembling.

‘Well, as long as it’s not just me,’ he said around a yawn.

‘Nope,’ she agreed cheerfully.  ‘I would quite like to slap him again, actually.’

He snickered.  ‘Go right ahead.’

She smiled and went on braiding.  She almost didn’t notice when Lucius fell asleep--she wouldn’t have, if he didn’t make those soft little ‘puff’ sounds in his sleep.  Craning her head to one side, she could see that his eyes were closed, and she rolled her eyes at herself.  Honestly, would anyone else have managed to end up trapped under a sleeping Lucius Malfoy?  The only other person she could think of was Harry, because Harry got into very, very strange situations as a matter of course.  It was his curse in life.  Although, she had high hopes that he would manage to get through the next few decades without ending up trapped under Lucius, awake or asleep.

‘Okay, I think you’re out, aren’t you?’ she said, just in case he was only dozing.

Another soft ‘puff’ as he exhaled was her only answer.

‘All right, then,’ she sighed, and pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa with some effort, letting it fall on them.  A little more squirming produced the desired effect, and with a mental shrug, she closed her eyes and decided to try to sleep, too.

She was out before she’d even finished the thought.


	18. Attack at the Ministry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The status quo is broken when Hermione's ominous-note sender reveals himself at the Ministry. Lucius does something stupid, and both he and Hermione suffer the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, um...it's been eleven days since I updated.... Sorry about that. You see, I just got my copy of _Case Histories_ in the mail, so I was spending all my free time watching that instead of writing. Oops. I loved it, by the way, I highly recommend it.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is exactly what it says on the tin, although we do pick up a little before the actual attack. We get to that fairly quickly. Remember how I said Lucius was nearly going to get himself killed? Well, the moment has arrived. The ending of the chapter is a bit of a cliffhanger, I suppose, but I'm almost done with the next chapter already, so you won't have to wait eleven days to find out what happens next this time, I promise. :)
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments! You had me blushing at all that praise. :D And it encouraged me to get back to writing after I finished watching the series. :) I'm sorry I didn't have time to respond to you all individually this time. Thank you again, you're all lovely people. :) Thank you to those of you who read without commenting at well. Anyway, I'll shut it now--I hope you enjoy! I look forward to hearing what you think.

Lucius was surrounded with warmth, and the scent-mixture he associated exclusively with Hermione.  He moaned softly with pleasure, trying to burrow into the warm solid thing he was lying on.  Which, on further reflection, seemed to be moving.  He froze, and realised it was a body, and the body was breathing.  His eyes popped open.  He was still in his sitting room.

‘Hermione?’ he whispered.

Her chest vibrated under his cheek when she chuckled.

‘I’m here,’ she said tenderly, and he felt her hands move into his hair again--probably  _ removing _ the braids this time.  Hopefully.

He relaxed with a sigh.  ‘Oh, good.’  An unpleasant thought occurred to him, marring his peace.  ‘What time is it?  Has Draco been up?’

Hermione snorted.  ‘He’s been up and gone to work already.  He woke me up just so I would see that he was glaring at me before he left.  I stopped him waking you up, though.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.  And it’s just after nine.’

Lucius did some quick mental math and forced himself to let go of her and sit up, frowning.  She sat up, too, stretching and wincing.

‘I’ve been crushing you for a little under twelve hours,’ he said unhappily.  ‘You should’ve woken me up and told me to shove off.’

Hermione shook her head, standing to stretch some more.  ‘I didn’t mind,’ she said, her voice strained because she was touching her toes.  ‘You don’t get enough quality sleep, and you seemed pretty content.  I was happy to help.’

His frown deepened, but he kept watching her stretch the kinks out.  She was very…flexible.

‘You should have told me to shove off  _ before _ I fell asleep, then,’ he said sternly.

She turned to face him, putting her hands on her hips.  ‘Lucius.  When was the last time anyone touched you?’

His mouth clicked shut.  He wasn’t sure what response he’d been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it.  She raised a brow, and he cast his mind back, reviewing his recent experiences.

‘New Year’s Day,’ he said triumphantly.  Not  _ that _ long ago.

Hermione pursed her lips and folded her arms.

‘I touched your cheek.  That hardly counts.’

‘You hugged me, the night before,’ Lucius countered, somewhat desperately.

She wasn’t impressed.  ‘I know what I’ve done.  When is the last time someone other than  _ me _ touched you?  The dances at your party don’t count.’

He shrank back, slumping a little with defeat.  ‘Draco…weeks ago.  I had a nightmare….’

He trailed off.  He’d had a lot of nightmares lately, except when Hermione was around.  But Draco didn’t come anymore.  He was alone.

He looked away, swallowing against the lump rising in his throat.

‘And does he ever touch you when you’ve  _ not _ just had a nightmare?’ she asked lowly.

Lucius shook his head mutely.  He had, rarely, before, but not in a long time, now.

‘What about besides me or Draco?’

That was a tough one.  A long, long time.

He opened his mouth with an effort.  ‘The Dark Lord, I think.  Or perhaps the Aurors, after the battle was over, before Mr Potter spoke for us.  I don’t quite remember--it’s all a bit of a muddle.’

She sighed.  ‘A  _ kind _ touch, Lucius,’ she clarified quietly.

Another pause.  ‘After Dobby helped you and your friends escape.  I needed….’

His voice failed him.

‘Narcissa, then.  Two years ago, almost.’

He nodded once.  Hermione didn’t speak again for a long while.  He looked up warily, but she just looked sad.

‘People need to be touched, Lucius,’ she said at last, very gently.  ‘Remember how I said going outside is a basic human right?  So is touch.  We humans need each other--we need to be hugged.  It seems to me that I’m the only one providing you with any physical contact at the moment, and you needed it.  I don’t care if Draco doesn’t like it--you’re my best friend, and if what you need is a good, long cuddle, then that’s bloody well what you’re going to get,’ she concluded fiercely, her eyes flashing.

Lucius smiled, the cold wisps of sadness blown away by the joy bursting in his middle like a firework.

_ He _ was her best friend.  Not Potter.  Not any of the Weasleys.   _ Him _ .

She smiled back, reaching out and fussing with his hair again.  ‘I missed a braid,’ she explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners with suppressed amusement.  ‘All better now.  Well, mostly.  It’s all a bit kinky on that side from being plaited all night.’

He didn’t even care what his hair looked like right now, he was that happy.

‘I’ll live,’ he said lightly.

Her smile widened briefly, but her next words were a phrase he was beginning to hate wholeheartedly.

‘I’d better go.’

Lucius immediately adopted the saddest expression in his arsenal.

‘Oh,  _ Lucius _ ….  Don’t look at me like that, I’d stay if I could!’ she protested earnestly, stepping close enough that he had to lean back to look up at her.

‘Really?’ he said mournfully.

‘ _ Really _ .  I have  _ so _ much work to do, though.’

‘You could bring your work here,’ he suggested, widening his eyes just a touch, so it would seem perfectly innocent as he snaked his hands around her waist.

‘No, I really can’t,’ Hermione laughed, her eyes twinkling.  ‘I wouldn’t get any work done, because you’re too distracting.’

He brightened a little.  ‘I am?’

She grinned.  ‘You’re Lucius Malfoy.  Who can ignore  _ you _ ?’

Plenty of people, nowadays, but the fact that she didn’t think so was quite pleasing.  He puffed up haughtily, which made her laugh again.

‘You’ll be back,’ he said insistently.

Her expression turned serious, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

‘Yes,’ she agreed softly.

‘You’ll be back  _ tomorrow _ .’

She sighed.  ‘Lucius….’

‘Please.  Tomorrow.  And the day after.  And the day after that.  Even if you can only come for lunch.’

She grimaced.  ‘Suppose you get sick of me?’

‘Never happen,’ he said automatically.  Then he thought of something that would guarantee victory.  ‘Don’t leave me with only Draco for company, not with the way he’s been acting.’

She sighed again, and Lucius suppressed a triumphant grin.

‘All right,’ Hermione conceded with a reluctant smile.  ‘I’ll be back for lunch tomorrow, and the day after, etcetera.’

‘Good,’ said Lucius firmly, and allowed himself a little smirk.

He saw her off, and the Aurors arrived to remove the restrictive wards an hour later.  After they finished their work and left, Lucius spent the rest of the day outside.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione kept her word, because of course she did, and Lucius would have been perfectly content with life in general, if it hadn’t been for Draco.  His son’s mood continued to be less than ideal, although he took to avoiding Lucius rather than snapping at him.  He stopped dining with him, taking his meals in the study, and refused to answer the door when Lucius came knocking.  On the rare occasions they saw each other, he pretended Lucius wasn’t in the room at all, and Lucius noted the bags under Draco’s eyes with concern.  When he mentioned it, though, or asked if Draco was sleeping all right, he got the same response--a total lack of acknowledgement.  He gave up trying to talk to Draco altogether, worrying about him silently, and spent a lot of his time in the gardens, as much to stay out of Draco’s way as for his own enjoyment.

On Thursday evening, Lucius saw for himself that Hermione was right--Draco was being edgy and hostile with everyone but Ginny, much to their obvious confusion and concern.  He was also going out of his way to avoid being alone with Hermione.

‘It’s because he knows I want to talk about the way he’s acting,’ she said over lunch on Friday, her frustration clear.  ‘He’s not ready to talk, I guess, but he’s going to be talking about it whether he’s ready or not if he keeps this up much longer.  I’ll enlist Ginny to help me jump him if I have to.’

Lucius made a mental note not to refuse to discuss things with Hermione for too long.

On Monday, term began again, much to Lucius’s relief and excitement.  He was ready and raring to go on Tuesday, even though Hogwarts was not his only option for getting out of the house anymore.  He’d sorely missed the mental stimulation (although his recent conversations with Arthur had helped).

However, on Thursday, it all came to a screeching halt.

Hermione was in the middle of explaining the silent film era when a silver stag sprang into the room.

‘The Ministry is under attack,’ it said with Potter’s voice.  ‘We need reinforcements, quickly.’

The stag disappeared.  The students leapt up in varying stages of panic, some of them screaming, but Hermione quickly took control.  Lucius was frozen at his desk, his brain locked on one thought-- _ Draco _ !

‘Silence!’ Hermione shouted, and the panicking teenagers stopped and stared at her wide-eyed, their faces white.  ‘Return to your common rooms at once, and stay there.  Go, now!’

They grabbed their things, inkpots tipping and papers scattering, and they fled.  Hermione said something to the Goyles that made them start readying to leave, too, and she shed her teaching robe, sprinting for the door.  He heard her cast the Patronus Charm, likely alerting the rest of the staff, and his muscles unlocked at last.  Lucius was on his feet immediately, pelting after her down the corridor.

‘Hermione!’ he shouted.  ‘Hermione, wait!’

She skidded to a halt, tapping her wand against her leg impatiently.

‘What?’ she said tersely.

‘I’m coming with you,’ he burst out as he slid to a stop beside her.

Hermione’s face twisted with outraged disbelief.  ‘ _ What _ ?!  Lucius, don’t be ridiculous!  You don’t have a pass, and you don’t have a wand!  Go  _ home _ , Lucius--I don’t have time for this!’

She took off again.  Lucius let out an exasperated growl and ran after her.  He wasn’t deterred by anything she’d said, because none of it penetrated--he was consumed with one thought and one thought alone-- _ Get to Draco _ .  He didn’t even pause at the castle doors.

Her mouth dropped open when she stopped outside the gates and spotted him sprinting toward her.

‘ _ Lucius _ !’ she screeched.  ‘What are you doing?!’

He nearly fell over when he stumbled to a halt beside her, panting.

‘I told you, I’m coming with you,’ he managed between breaths, his hands on his knees.  She was surprisingly fast.

‘Like hell!  You have no way of defending yourself, if you haven’t noticed!’ she shouted, the colour rising in her face.  ‘What  _ you’re _ going to do is head straight back to the castle and Floo home!’

He glowered, but she turned away from him, and he had a split second when she raised her wand, and he lunged, snagging her arm just as she Apparated.

They landed hard in the midst of chaos.  The air was filled with stray spells and the stale, staticky haze they left behind.  Wizards in Death Eater attire and wizards in Auror uniforms and random wizards and witches from other parts of the Ministry were intermingled, all of them battling fiercely.  Something exploded on the other side of the atrium, showering the combatants in shrapnel.

Hermione whirled and smacked him in the head with her wand.

‘Ow!’ Lucius yelped, and then they both ducked when his cry drew attention from nearby.  The spell whizzed over their heads, but the wizard who’d sent it straightened immediately after, looking surprised.

‘Hermione?  Hermione!  Sorry!  Didn’t see you there!’ Ron shouted, making his way over.

Hermione put up a shield around all three of them as Ron joined them, and then grabbed Lucius’s arm in a steel grip, steering him behind a column.  They all crouched down, watching the battle, although Hermione forced him behind the two of them.

‘What is he doing here?’ Ron asked, jerking a thumb at Lucius.

‘Being an idiot,’ Hermione said curtly.

‘Looking for my son,’ Lucius corrected sharply, glaring at the back of her head.

Ron snorted.  ‘If your son has any sense at all, he’s barricaded himself in his office, away from this mess.’

Hermione shot off a spell through her shield.  ‘What happened?’

‘Your old friend Dolohov found a contact here in the Ministry,’ Ron explained quickly, sending a spell of his own out.  ‘Thompson or something.  He let them know that Kingsley’s in Japan, settling some kind of tourist incident, so they chose this as the opportune moment to come.  Nobody seems to know who’s supposed to be in charge when Kingsley’s not here, so nobody knew where every Auror was stationed to call them back, so Harry left them to argue and started sending out the word to all the old Order and DA members.’

Lucius had been peeking over their heads, and at that moment, he spotted a very familiar blond head, back to back with a messy black-haired one.

‘There’s Draco!’ he hissed, but Hermione yanked him back down when he leapt to his feet.

‘Are you insane?’ she snarled, gripping his wrist tightly.  ‘You’re going to get yourself killed!  Maybe I’m not saying this clearly enough:  _ you don’t have a wand!!! _ ’

He twisted his arm out of her grip.  ‘I  _ know _ that!  But Draco--’

‘Draco is doing just fine defending himself--besides, he’s got Harry.  But if you do something stupid like run out there trying to reach him, you’re going to get yourself killed--or me, because if you run out there alone, I’m going after you, and it will be  _ much _ easier to protect you and myself at the same time if you stay back here!’

That brought Lucius up short as the situation he’d mindlessly plunged into suddenly sank in, and he crouched down a little lower.  He couldn’t risk Hermione’s safety.

‘Oh.’

‘Oh is right.  Now stay put, and stay down,’ she snapped.

He obeyed, flattening himself against the wall and making himself as small a target as possible.  This had not been one of his brighter moments, he reflected numbly.

The rest of the living members of the Order and Dumbledore’s Army arrived shortly after, as well as the rest of the teachers from Hogwarts, severely outnumbering the rogue Death Eaters, but it seemed to make them fight harder, desperation driving them on.  Ron spotted Ginny and leapt into the fray to join her, leaving Lucius and Hermione alone by the column.  Terror gripped Lucius when he saw Draco and Harry get separated, but Draco merely made his way to Ron and Ginny, and the three of them formed a triangle, fighting off their opponents quite effectively.  Lucius didn’t see where Harry ended up, and didn’t dare try to crane his neck around the pillar to find out.

Hermione was defending their position fiercely, but two of the Death Eaters had noticed that Lucius wasn’t fighting--whether they recognised him or not wasn’t clear--and were worrying at her from different angles, trying to draw her out.

It was a stupid plan, attacking the Ministry, Lucius thought as he watched Hermione’s fearless defence.  Even with Kingsley away, what had they hoped to accomplish?  There had to be an ulterior motive at work here, something they were all missing.

‘Well, hello, my sweet,’ one of the Death Eaters drawled at Hermione, and even with the charm to disguise his voice, Lucius knew it was Dolohov.  ‘Have you been getting my notes?’

Like the one that had shaken Hermione up, that Draco and Hermione had quarrelled over, Lucius was sure of it.

Hermione didn’t respond, entirely focused on her spell-casting.  She sent a Stupefy at Dolohov, but he easily blocked it.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said, chuckling.  ‘You remember my favourite spell, don’t you?’

She was sweating, and trying to fight back closer to Lucius.  He realised suddenly that they’d successfully forced her away from the column--away from him, and he was outside of the shield now.  He swallowed hard, looking up at Dolohov.  The slimeball had noticed his position, all right--his wand wasn’t pointed at Hermione anymore.

‘I’m a little out of practise,’ he went on, ‘but I think I can still cast it pretty well.  Let’s find out.’

_ The end.  Game over _ , Lucius thought in a hollow, cheerful tone that seemed entirely out of place, given that he was undoubtedly about to die.  He’d always tried to think of something profound to think (or say, provided he could speak) while dying, but none of it would come to him now.

Hermione Stupefied the other Death Eater a moment too late, and the spell--sickly orange--was coming at him.  Lucius watched it with mild interest; everything seemed so far away now, as he contemplated bleeding to death from Dolohov’s spell.  He was familiar with Dolohov’s favourite, too.  It was a modified Cutting Curse of his own invention.  He recalled being somewhat surprised to learn that Hermione had survived it, when he’d got out of Azkaban and Wormtail was importantly filling him in on all that he’d missed, particularly since none of her fellow students were familiar with it, and they hadn’t known how to render any first aid.  It was too late to block it even if he’d had a wand, too late to move--

Hermione crashed into him, knocking him to the side, and was knocked off her feet when the spell hit her a millisecond later.  Lucius stared in shock, dimly hearing Dolohov’s delighted hoot of laughter, abruptly cut off when he was engaged by an Auror.

He snapped out of it when she moved her head, scrambling to her side in a panic.  There was blood everywhere, it seemed, but then he saw the wound, a ragged line from shoulder to hip on the left side.

‘Hermione?  Hermione, Hermione, I’m sorry,’ he babbled senselessly, shaking her uninjured shoulder a little.  ‘I’m so sorry.  I should have listened.’

She moaned, her eyes opening and staring at him with blatant confusion.  Lucius calmed himself with sheer willpower--panicking and babbling like an idiot wasn’t going to help her.  He was no mediwizard, but he knew a few powerful healing spells for emergencies, he just didn’t have a wand to perform them.  Frowning fiercely, he held his hands above the wound and started incanting one of them anyway.  His magic roared up eagerly, ready after such long disuse--but the spell fizzled when it reached his fingers.  He let out a cry of frustration, but it was no use.  It simply wouldn’t work.

There had to be a way-- _ Muggles _ !  His mind raced as he tried to remember--there was a chapter about how Muggles survived injuries--pressure?  Yes, putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding!  But it was so long, and he only had two hands.  He picked out the spot that looked the worst, over her abdomen, and pressed down, wincing as blood gushed over his fingers.

‘Lucius,’ she rasped suddenly.

His eyes snapped to her face, twisted with pain.

‘Shhh, don’t try to talk,’ he said quickly, his voice shaking despite his attempts to sound soothing.

‘Lucius,’ she said again, weak and hoarse.

He realised suddenly that she was holding her wand up--holding it by the tip, the handle pointed at him.  He blinked at it blankly.

‘Take it,’ she said, coughing.

Lucius’s brows knit.  ‘Hermione,  _ no _ ,’ he said, not sure of what to make of this.

‘Defend yourself,’ she commanded, lifting the wand a little higher.

Hesitantly, he reached for it.  Perhaps, if he took it and set it aside, she would rest….

As soon as his hand closed around it, she smiled tremulously and passed out.  Lucius looked at the wand, an idea nibbling at the edge of his mind--he still knew those spells, and now he had a wand.  He could heal her,  _ if _ her wand would cooperate.

Tentatively, he pointed it at the wound and started murmuring the incantation.  The wand did not like him--it bucked in his hand, shooting out angry red sparks.  Lucius gritted his teeth and bore down harder.  He  _ had _ to save Hermione.  She couldn’t die, not like this, not because of him and his crazed moment of stupidity.  He couldn’t let her die, he didn’t think he could go on if she died here, because she was protecting him.

He ducked, shielding Hermione as a spray of debris crashed over them from a stray spell, then straightened and pointed the wand at her wound again.

‘Come on, come  _ on _ ,’ he ground out when her wand bucked again, resisting his control.  ‘We have to save her, she’s  _ your _ master!  Do you  _ want _ her to die?’

‘Malfoy!’

He looked up sharply--it was Potter, a little sweaty and a little messier than usual, but otherwise no worse for wear.  He was looking at Hermione with shock and worry.

‘What happened?’ he demanded, surprisingly with no accusation in his voice.

‘Dolohov,’ Lucius choked out.  ‘I’m trying…but, her wand….’

Potter watched it buck again, nodding his understanding.  He turned away, raising his wand and blocking a spell.

‘You keep trying, I’ll cover you,’ he said quickly.

Lucius immediately turned back to his work, concentrating his entire being on his goal.

_ I want to save her , _ he silently implored the wand as it continued to resist, forcing him to start over a third time.   _ Help me! _

It didn’t buck this time, sluggishly responding to his magic, and Lucius allowed himself a short second of relief as he felt the spell, the wand and his own power beginning to cooperate, threading together reluctantly but securely.

It had to work.  It  _ had _ to.  He couldn’t imagine life without Hermione anymore--a future without her in it was a bleak, harrowing slog toward nothing.  He needed her, he wanted her.  She had to live, so he could tell her how sorry he was, so she could forgive him, but mostly--mostly she had to live so he could tell her that he loved her.

He loved her.

He  _ loved _ her.

The spell was working.  Lucius finished the incantation and sat back, watching the edges of the wound draw together, the bleeding slowing then stopping.  He wiped his face on his sleeve, noting with detachment that he appeared to be crying.

Hermione was going to live--she just had to.  All she needed now was St Mungo’s, a professional healer to strengthen the healing already done, maybe a Blood Replenishing Potion or two, and then she’d be just fine.

Lucius looked around.  Potter was walking away, hurrying toward a fallen Auror.  It had gone quiet, at some point.  The battle was over.  Dead or unconscious Death Eaters lay everywhere, a few Aurors, too, and others.  Lucius didn’t care about any of them but the one in front of him.  He watched her chest rise and fall, his heart in his throat every time there was even the slightest hitch.

It was probably this utter focus that made him fail to notice the Aurors coming up to him until he was surrounded.

‘You!  On your feet!’

Lucius looked up and sighed at his own idiocy.  He dropped Hermione’s wand and put his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender, shakily getting to his feet.

He needn’t have bothered.  One of them shot off a spell that knocked him backward, and Lucius thought ruefully that he was never, ever putting his hands up to show that he was unarmed, ever again, because it never worked.  His head cracked into the wall and spots filled his vision; he lay stunned as ropes were magicked around him, blinking to try to stay conscious as his head swam.

‘ _ Hey _ !’  Potter, outraged.  ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’

Lucius’s stomach clenched as he was levitated, the whole world seeming to roll and heave.

‘Arresting a Death Eater, what does it look like?’ said a calm, cool voice.

‘He’s on our side--he saved Hermione!’

Hermione--Lucius tilted his head back even though it made him want to vomit.  She was still lying there, but a mediwizard was examining her while Ron stood by, ready to help move her.  She would be safe.  He let out a relieved sigh and bit down on his tongue immediately after, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut.

The argument was still going on, but Arthur’s voice cut across it, sounding unhappy but calm.

‘Harry, technically he violated his probation.  They’ll keep him here in the Ministry until they schedule a hearing.  We can plead his case then.’

Potter grumbled something, but Lucius didn’t catch it, because they were taking him somewhere, probably a holding cell.  He didn’t want to open his eyes to find out, for fear of being sick.

They took him down a few levels; he heard metal doors squeaking and clanging.  Definitely a holding cell, then.  He let out a breath as they set him down on a cold floor, the nausea settling some.

‘Up.’

Lucius cracked open his eyes, the dim torchlight making them smart, and struggled to a sitting position, then rolled to his knees.  There were two Aurors, neither of them familiar to him, and he was relieved to see that they didn’t look angry or malicious, merely studying him with grim professionalism.  He would have stood the rest of the way, but the burlier one of the two put a heavy hand on his shoulder when he made to stand, so he subsided back into his kneeling position.  He tried to control his breathing, keeping a slow, even pace, partly for something to focus on besides the insistent throbbing at the back of his skull.

‘Hold out your hands,’ said the reedy one, and he was the owner of the cool, calm voice.

Obediently, he held out his bound wrists.  He was hoping to get out of this without further injury, and being cooperative had to help.  The reedy Auror put metal cuffs on his wrists, attached to chains that were anchored to the floor, and then he removed the binding spell--breathing at all became much easier as the ropes evaporated.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said quietly.

The reedy Auror seemed surprised, but he nodded shortly.

‘Your guard will be in momentarily,’ the burly one said, and the two of them left.

The metal door clanged shut behind them.  The cell was small, like all of them, but pretty standard.  Lucius breathed in and out with forced regularity, counting to four for each inhale and each exhale.  It was made a little easier by the fact that there was a tiny barred window in one wall, letting in a little of the afternoon light, and by the lit torch they’d left behind, and also by the fact that the Ministry cells were clinically sterile, not made of rough-hewn stone blocks like Azkaban.  It was all grey and smooth and featureless, which was somewhat grounding.  Still, not being here at all would’ve been preferable, and he roundly cursed himself for failing to listen to Hermione, for letting his all-consuming fear for Draco’s safety cloud his brain, blinding him to all reason.

This had definitely not been one of his better days on the intelligence front.  Or on any front, really.  He’d never acted so Gryffindor in his life.  Even when he’d raced through the Battle of Hogwarts looking for Draco, he’d been with Narcissa, and she’d had a second-hand wand to protect them with.  This time, he would’ve been alone, if Hermione hadn’t decided to take charge of him, and he had no real plan for what he intended to do once he  _ found _ Draco.  He would’ve been useless to him without a wand, just gone from being a liability to Hermione to being a liability to Draco.  Neither option was preferable, which brought him back to his original thought that he should’ve listened to Hermione and stayed behind, much as it would have pained him.

He needed to stop thinking.  His head hurt, and his stomach was still uneasy.  Lucius sat back on his heels and bent over until his forehead was resting against the cold floor, sighing at the minor relief.  It was a little uncomfortable on his arms, since there was nowhere to move them where the chains wouldn’t be in the way, but otherwise, this position was very helpful, his head seeming a little clearer and the pain fading a bit.

The door squeaked when it opened.  Lucius sat up as quickly as he dared.  He completely froze when the face registered, the blood pounding in his ears, his throat closing up.

_ No no nononononononononono . _

Porter smiled politely.  ‘Hello again, Lucius.  Nice to see you again.  Looks like I’ll be your guard for the foreseeable future,’ he said, mild, friendly.

The fear spiked into overwhelming terror.  Lucius lost control of his stomach and vomited.

Porter’s smile widened.


	19. Rescuing Lucius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes in the hospital and takes charge. First, the gang rescues Lucius from Porter's clutches, but then they have to cross their fingers that they can keep him out of Azkaban. Lucius is just glad no one seems to be all that angry with him anymore--especially Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this was long. And kind of boring at the end, but I didn't want to just say, 'And then they had the hearing, the end.' However, for the record, trial scenes are hard and boring to write. They're probably boring to read, too. Especially with all the political undertones that no one cares about.
> 
> Anyway, Lucius perks up pretty fast in this one. Getting away from someone who was torturing him, then getting some sleep, and then having some real food will do wonders for a person. Mostly, this is just wrapping up the problem of Lucius going back to Azkaban, because no one wants that to happen, so that we can move on to other, better things. I hope you enjoy it anyway. :) Next time ought to be way more fun, at least for me to write. :P ;)
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading and/or commenting, and putting up with my overly long notes that no one cares about, either. ;)

Hermione thought for a moment that it was 1996 again, as she woke to a line of fire down her torso.  It took a moment for memory to return--whirling from downing one Death Eater to find Lucius about to go down to Dolohov’s spell, registering in the half-second she had left that it was too late to block or shield, if she’d even known what would work against Dolohov’s modified spell, throwing her whole body against Lucius’s to push him aside.  That hadn’t been very smart.  Probably yanking him to the ground would have worked, if she could’ve done it fast enough.  There were about a thousand shields she could have at least  _ tried _ …but she couldn’t help it.  Lucius had been in immediate, possibly deadly peril, and she had acted on instinct.

Groaning, she opened her eyes and struggled up, propping herself up on her elbows.

‘Hermione!  Maybe you shouldn’t move yet,’ Harry said anxiously, hovering over her.

She squinted at him.  ‘How long have I been out?’

Her throat felt like it was full of gravel; she smiled gratefully when Neville rushed to hand her a glass of water.  She did a quick mental inventory--Harry, Neville, Ginny, Ron, Draco.  No Lucius.  And Draco did not look happy, in a completely different way than he had been lately.  His face was twisted with worry.

‘Three days,’ said Ginny.  ‘The healers said you were lucky, that the curse hit harder this time, and if it hadn’t been for Lucius, you would’ve bled to death by the time the mediwizard got to you.’

Hermione sat up the rest of the way.  ‘Lucius--where is he?’

They all exchanged a glance.  Alarm pushed her to her feet, her heart in her throat.

‘Hermione, you shouldn’t be up yet!’ Harry protested.  ‘Let a healer examine you first--’

‘My wand,’ she said curtly.  ‘Where is Lucius?’

Draco held out some folded clothes to her, her wand lying on top.  ‘The Ministry.  They arrested him and put him in a holding cell straight after the battle.  They won’t let me see him,’ he added lowly.

She snatched the pile and went behind the screen in the corner to dress.

‘They won’t let  _ anyone _ see him,’ Ron corrected.  ‘Dad’s tried to get in several times, and so have Harry and me, and they say no one can see him until the hearing.  Bureaucratic gibberish, and Dad hasn’t had time to argue them down, what with everything being such a mess.’

She pulled her shirt over her head with a wince; the wound still ached fiercely, although she could tell she was past the danger of re-opening it.

‘And when is the hearing?’ she demanded.

‘Not until tomorrow afternoon, two o’clock,’ Neville said.

No way was she waiting that long.  For one thing, Lucius was due a very long lecture about not doing stupid things, particularly after she specifically told him that what he was about to do was stupid and dangerous and he should not do it.  Secondly, she didn’t think Lucius was probably handling his captivity very well, and she very much needed to see for herself that he was all right.

‘Is Kingsley back from Japan yet?’ she asked as she emerged, tucking her wand away.

‘He’s been trying to get away ever since he heard about what happened,’ Harry said, falling in step with her.  He’d known her long enough to pick his battles, and even he could see he’d lose if he tried to get her to stay in bed.  ‘Unfortunately, the soonest he’ll have the situation wrapped up is tonight, so he won’t be here until tomorrow morning.’

Hermione’s brows rose.  ‘That must have been some incident.’

Harry grimaced.  ‘A British wizard set an important, beloved monument on fire, accidentally, while completely pissed.  The Japanese were not best pleased, particularly since the monument doubles as a talisman against Yetis in that area.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Yeah.’

Hermione might have smiled at the awed looks she and her little entourage received, if she hadn’t been on a mission, and a bit put out to boot.  They Flooed to the Ministry, marching in step accidentally, which felt a bit silly.  There were cleanup crews at work in the atrium, but for the most part, she could hardly tell there had been a battle at all.  They’d obviously made significant progress.

‘Did they catch all of them?’ she asked as they turned toward the lifts.

‘Nearly,’ said Ron glumly.  ‘They got Dolohov and a new member by the name of Chalmers, and the two of them appear to have been the brains behind the operation, so they don’t think the few who got away will try anything.  They’re mostly dolts that got away, so they’re unlikely to do anything but lie low, or maybe flee the country.’

A part of Hermione relaxed to hear that Dolohov had been captured.  No more ominous notes.

Down on the detention level, they were immediately brought to a halt by two guards.

‘Do you have authorisation to be here?’ one of them asked sharply.

Hermione frowned.  ‘Authorisation from whom?  From what I hear, you’re not letting  _ anyone _ past.’

‘Um….’  The two guards exchanged a glance.  ‘We’re not really sure.  We just know we’re not supposed to let the general public pass.’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘We are not the general public.  And may I remind you that prisoners who have not been convicted of a crime and are awaiting trial or hearing are entitled to visitation from whomever they please?’

‘Oh, is that what the guestbook is for?’ the other said stupidly.

Harry leaned over to whisper in her ear.  ‘I can see why they’re stationed down here.’

She struggled not to smile.

‘Who are you here to visit?’

‘Lucius Malfoy.’

Another exchanged glance.  ‘Um… _ technically _ , he  _ has _ been convicted of a crime….’

A long, drawn-out and thoroughly boring discussion ensued wherein Hermione and her friends tried fruitlessly to convince the two idiots that while Lucius had been convicted, he was currently serving his probation, and he had  _ not _ yet been convicted of violating his probation, which was the crime he was currently being incarcerated for, so from a legal standpoint, he was still entitled to visitation until such time as he was found guilty and sentenced.  This was much too complicated for the two guards.

She was just getting ready to admit defeat and leave (to do research and find a way round them, naturally), when she heard a short scream echo down the corridor.  It was Lucius’s voice--she was done talking.

She drew her wand and levelled it at the nearest guard’s face, seeing Harry backing her up out of the corner of her eye.

‘Out of my way, fool,’ Hermione snarled.

Wide-eyed, both guards stumbled out of her path.  She dashed down the corridor, her friends’ feet echoing behind her.  She didn’t need to know which cell it was--there was an insistent tug at the core of her, and she knew beyond doubt when she’d found the right door.  She blasted it open and assessed the situation quickly.

A man with short sandy hair and a rather bird-like aspect was crouched in front of Lucius, making intent eye contact.  Hermione quickly blocked the spell an irate Draco sent at the man.

‘He’s using Legilimency,’ she explained before Draco could blast  _ her _ .  ‘You could damage Lucius’s mind if you pull him out too abruptly.’

He calmed himself with a visible effort.  They went to the man, who was wearing a guard’s uniform, and stood on either side of him, pointing their wands at his temples.

‘Remove yourself,’ Hermione snapped.  ‘ _ Carefully _ .’

She could see when he obeyed; Lucius slumped, his head bowing as he panted raggedly, making distressed noises on each exhale.  The man looked up at them with a calm smile, slowly rising to his feet.

‘Ah, it’s nice to meet you in person, Hermione,’ he said amiably.

She dug the point of her wand into his neck, eyes flashing.  ‘ _ Do.  Not.  Call.  Me.  That . _ ’

The man was unperturbed, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose in alarm.  There was something wrong with this man.

‘Poor Lucius is so very fond of you,’ he said, smiling.  ‘It was easy to torment him with you.’

She hissed in a breath.  ‘What have you done?’

‘Oh, nothing much.  There wasn’t time for anything permanent.  But I did have a bit of fun.  It was no less than he deserved anyway.’

Hermione might have knocked him off his feet if Arthur hadn’t arrived, Ginny on his heels.  She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed Ginny was running in the opposite direction when they all headed down the corridor.

‘Dad!’ Ron burst out.  ‘This one--’

‘Randall Porter,’ the man put in pleasantly.

Hermione’s blood ran cold, and she felt nothing but icy calm as she contemplated murder.

‘ _ You _ ,’ she breathed harshly.  ‘You’re the one from Azkaban.’

He nodded, still smiling.  ‘I was proud to do my duty, but the promotion was most welcome.’

‘He was doing Legilimency on Malfoy,’ Ron finished, glowering at Porter.

Hermione had never seen Arthur look so grim.  His eyes flicked to Hermione, her shaking hand holding her wand against Porter’s neck, and he pushed up his glasses.

‘We’ll take care of this,’ he said gently.  ‘You two see to Lucius.’

Draco looked ashamed and lowered his wand, moving to Lucius’s side once Harry and Ron had taken his place.  Hermione didn’t move, staring at Porter with ice in her veins.  She wanted to kill him.  He deserved to die.

Porter’s smile wavered and she saw a flicker of fear cross his face.

Arthur’s hand closed gently around her wrist.

‘Hermione,’ he said softly.  ‘Lucius needs you.’

She allowed Arthur to lower her wand, and reluctantly stepped away so Neville could take her place.  She breathed out slowly as they escorted Porter from the room, trying to expel the cold rage she felt alongside the carbon dioxide.  It worked, a little.  Arthur sympathetically patted her shoulder before following them out.

Once she felt more in control, she turned to the pair of Malfoys.  Lucius hadn’t moved, remaining hunched over with his eyes closed.  She knelt beside him, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder.  He flinched from her touch.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly, but didn’t try to touch him again.

The chains rattled as he retreated from her, cringing as though he expected a blow.  Hermione’s heart ached, and if Arthur and the others hadn’t taken Porter out already, she would not have used the Killing Curse now--oh, no, that was too good for him.  She was feeling too much, she realised.  She was angry and heartbroken and full of love and hate and protectiveness and a whole muddle of other things she couldn’t sort out right now.  Her emotional state was not what Lucius needed right now.

She nodded at Draco.  ‘You try,’ she choked out.

She would try to settle her emotions in the meantime.

Draco shot her an uneasy look, but hesitantly touched his father’s other shoulder.  ‘Father?’

Lucius whimpered, but there was nowhere left to go.  He was pinned between the two of them, and had reached the limit of the chains.

‘Father, we’re not going to hurt you,’ Draco said helplessly.  ‘We want to help.’

Hermione stood and stepped back, watching with her heart in her throat as he retreated from Draco into the space she’d just vacated.

Lucius looked terrible.  He was ashen with either illness or fear, his eyes sunken and pale and darting with panic, tremors running through him at random intervals.  There was a bruise forming above his right eye, and she imagined there were more under his clothes.  His wrists were rubbed raw by the cuffs, and dried blood was caked on his hands, flaking off in spots-- _ her _ blood?  His hair was a tangled mess, his clothes were rumpled and soiled with what looked and smelled a lot like vomit.  She didn’t dare use a cleaning charm, lest she frighten him further, but he would need to be cleaned up as soon as they could calm him down.

Suddenly, her gaze sharpened on his hair.  It wasn’t just tangled--there was dried blood in it.  She moved quickly, causing Lucius to gasp and flinch away at the sudden movement toward him.

‘Sorry.  Hold still.’

He immediately froze.

Draco frowned up at her.  ‘What’s going on?’

Hermione tilted Lucius’s head for a better angle and moved the tangled locks out of her way, threading through until she found the crown of his head.  There was blood matting those locks down, and she gently probed the center.  Lucius flinched again, letting out a strangled yelp.

‘It doesn’t look like his skull is fractured,’ she said, ‘but he got a pretty good knock at some point.  He’s probably concussed.’

Draco scrambled to his feet for a better view.  ‘Those bastards,’ he growled.

Hermione privately agreed.  ‘Legilimency and concussions do not mix,’ she said, turning his attention to more urgent matters.  ‘He needs a healer,  _ now _ .’

Draco went pale.  ‘I’ll go find someone,’ he said quickly, and ran out of the room at top speed.

Lucius was staring up at her fearfully, now that they were alone.  Sighing, she sat cross-legged beside him.

‘I won’t hurt you,’ she said quietly.  ‘And I’m not angry anymore.  Whatever Porter made you think happened between us, we’ll sort it out later.  For right now, I need you to trust me.  Can you do that?’

She watched some of the tension melt out of him, his face softening and his eyes regaining some colour.  He nodded minutely.  She blew out a relieved breath, but didn’t dare lose a layer of caution.

‘Thank you.  Here’s what I’m going to do.  I’m going to take out my wand,’ she said slowly and gently.  ‘I’m going to point it at you, and then I’m going to do a cleaning charm.  Then I’m going to put it away.  That’s all that’s going to happen.  Is that okay?’

Lucius trembled, but slowly, he nodded.  She took out her wand, keeping her movements slow so he could easily follow.  She would have normally cast the cleaning charm nonverbally, but this time she said it loudly and clearly, so he would hear the incantation before the spell hit.  The smell in the room improved immensely when she’d finished.  She was fairly certain that prisoners weren’t supposed to be denied access to baths and toilets, regardless of their current status, and she knew Kingsley was going to have a great deal of work ahead of him.  There was no way he would let such incompetents and abusers continue to work in his department, once he learned the extent of it.

Once the wand was put away again, she sat watching him, trying to decide what, if anything, she could or should do now.  Lucius stared back at her, but he remained silent.  She hoped it wasn’t a side effect of being attacked with Legilimency while concussed--even Legilimency with consent was not recommended while concussed, as the results were often unpredictable, and not generally positive.

What she  _ really _ wanted to do, of course, was to unchain him and take him home, where she could clean him up and look after him properly, but she doubted the Ministry would look very kindly on that.

‘Your hearing is tomorrow afternoon,’ she said at last, looking away from him.  ‘Did you know?’

There was a long pause.  ‘…No,’ he said, his voice a mere rasp.

At least he could still speak at all.

‘Draco’s got your solicitors ready,’ she said conversationally.  ‘So you won’t be on your own.’

He didn’t answer.  She heard movement in the corridor, but it turned out to be the two idiot guards pacing, apparently thinking that this was an integral part of their duties.

‘I’m sorry.’

Hermione looked up sharply.  Lucius was staring at his clasped hands (clean now, thanks to her charm), flexing his arms slightly so the cuffs rubbed against his wrists.  She could see a little blood beading on one of the many scrapes he’d made, likely in his futile struggle to escape Porter.

‘Stop that,’ she said, but her tone was gentle.

She reached out and put her hand over his wrist, feeling the heat rising off the agitated skin.  Lucius stilled, but he kept his gaze down.

‘Why are you sorry?’ she asked kindly.

He drew a shaky breath.  ‘Because I didn’t listen.  You were right.  And I almost got you killed,’ he added, what little voice he could muster nearly choked off.

She sighed.  A part of her agreed with him.  Lucius had acted with complete disregard for logic and his own well-being.  Part of her was furious with him for acting so idiotically, for putting himself in danger, in more ways than one.  He might have been killed.  He could still go back to Azkaban, depending on how the hearing went.  She wanted to shake him and demand to know what he’d been thinking.

But another part of her understood--he hadn’t been thinking at all, he’d been feeling.  He’d been terrified for his son, whom he loved no matter how dreadfully he’d been behaving lately, and he had acted accordingly.  She couldn’t exactly fault him for loving Draco, even when it made him do incredibly stupid things.  She already knew that about him--during his sentence in Azkaban, the intelligent thing to do would have been to stop asking about Draco so the guards would stop punishing him for it, but he had persisted until the day he was released.  Nothing and no one could deter him from loving and protecting Draco, and Hermione thought of that as one of Lucius’s best qualities.  It was certainly one of the few he had that she could term ‘noble.’  It just so happened to also be a double-edged sword that made him act completely daft at times.

‘I was the one who put myself in front of that spell,’ Hermione pointed out.  ‘Not you.’

He shivered.  ‘But you wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t been there.’

She’d considered that already.  ‘Dolohov would have found a way whether you’d been there or not,’ she said reasonably.  ‘He’s been sending me horrible notes hinting that he wanted to kill me for months and months.  He’s been looking forward to this.  You being there was incidental, and he used what was available.  If you hadn’t been there, he would’ve found another way.  Possibly a way that ended with me dead, rather than just injured, particularly since Ginny informs me that I only survived because of you.’

He looked up sharply in surprise.  She smiled warmly.

‘You knew what to do, and you did it.  At St Mungo’s, they told them that if it hadn’t been for you, I would have died before the mediwizard got to me.  So while I  _ do _ wish that you’d acted with a little more circumspection, I can hardly be angry with you after you saved my life.’

Lucius opened and closed his mouth several times before settling on, ‘I’m still sorry.’

She patted his knee with her free hand.  ‘I know.  I just hope you don’t have reason to be sorrier yet,’ she added with a grimace.  ‘I’ll do what I can to help you, but…you  _ did _ violate your probation.  They may decide against you.’

He shuddered violently.  ‘Azkaban,’ he whispered, and there was a lot of white around his eyes.

Hermione gripped his wrists a little more firmly.  ‘Maybe not.  You had good motives for doing it, and you’ve never violated the conditions before, no matter how hateful they were.  We’re going to do everything we can to convince them that’s not necessary.’

He continued to tremble, not comforted.  She sighed and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his, smelling his stale breath.  She was relieved when he pressed back, his eyes fluttering shut, and he moved his wrists until she got the hint to move to take his hands.  They were cold and unsteady; she did her best to warm them between hers.

She didn’t release him until Draco returned with a mediwizard and an Auror--a friend of Charlie Weasley’s from Hogwarts, so she knew she could trust her.  Hermione stood and stepped back to let them do their work, even though her whole being wanted to stay at Lucius’s side.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The mediwizard patched Lucius up very well, healing his wrists with a wave of his wand, and making him swallow several potions for his concussion, ribs that turned out to be cracked, and the bruises she’d known were hiding under his robes.  Lucius looked better, more alert with more colour in his face, when the mediwizard had finished, but the old man cautioned Hermione before he left.

‘His physical wounds will be fine,’ he said quietly after he’d pulled her aside.  ‘But he needs a mind healer.  Young Mr Malfoy tells me he was subjected to Legilimency against his will?  Couple that with a concussion, and you could have some serious problems.’

She nodded solemnly.  She fully intended on getting him an appointment with a mind healer as soon as possible, whether he was sent back to Azkaban or not.  She also intended to make an appointment for him to have a full physical--she wanted Lucius gone over with a fine-toothed comb, to make absolutely certain there were no underlying problems.  She still suspected that his core body temperature had been damaged, for one thing.  It couldn’t be fixed if it was, but if the healers at St Mungo’s said so, then the Azkaban guards would be required to provide Lucius with extra clothing and blankets, if nothing else.

After the mediwizard had finished and gone, Auror Campbell moved Lucius to a different cell--one that didn’t smell like stale vomit, and which was equipped with a cot and a toilet and sink.  There were no chains.

‘Better late than never,’ the witch said with an edge of dark humour.  ‘At least you’ll be comfortable until tomorrow.’

Lucius laid on the cot, closing his eyes in bliss and relief.  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured.

Campbell chuckled.  ‘No problem.  If you need anything, just press your hand to the blue circle by the door.  There’s a chime that will alert me.  I’m going to get you something to eat.’

They thanked her again and she left.  Hermione turned away while Draco helped Lucius change into some clean clothes.  Lucius immediately returned to the cot when they were finished, falling asleep in short order, his arms wrapped around himself.

‘Guess I’m brushing his hair later,’ Hermione said wryly, tossing the brush she’d conjured on the little writing table in the corner.

Draco couldn’t quite meet her eye.  ‘Thank you.’

‘Well, you can brush it if you want, it’s not a big deal.’

He huffed.  ‘No, I meant--for losing your temper, I guess.  We never would have known anything was going on if you hadn’t bulled your way through.’

Hermione chuckled quietly, mindful of Lucius.  ‘Uh, thanks?  Any time.’

He snorted, and they were quiet for a while, watching Lucius breathe.  Auror Campbell returned with a tray for Lucius, and Hermione reluctantly went to him, shaking him gently.

‘Lucius?  Wake up, love,’ she said ever-so-softly, watching her breath stir his hair.

He groaned unhappily, his face scrunching with displeasure.  ‘Don’t wanna,’ he mumbled.

‘It’s time to eat something, and then you can go back to sleep,’ she coaxed, lightly running a hand over his temple, down his cheek.

He opened his eyes with a reluctant sigh.  ‘Okay.’

She smiled and led him to the table, remaining behind him as he ate, threading her fingers through his impossibly tangled hair and smoothing the fabric of his robes with gentle brushes.  Campbell had wisely chosen to bring broth and crackers--light foods that Lucius didn’t seem to have too much trouble with.

Campbell informed them with extreme reluctance that they’d have to go after Lucius was done, and Hermione noted with amusement that Lucius immediately slowed his eating, darting a surreptitious glance at Campbell.  At last, though, he couldn’t stretch it out any longer, and he collapsed back on the cot, sleeping almost before he was lying down.  She was saddened to see that he curled up tightly, frowning and whimpering in his sleep, and she hoped it didn’t mean he’d gone back to square one.

Hermione and Draco followed Campbell back out of the detention center, and then began the walk back to the atrium together in silence--Campbell remained below, evidently replacing Idiots 1 and 2 on guard duty.

‘You’ve been acting like a real tosser, you know that?’ Hermione said suddenly.  ‘I’ve half a mind to turn you over my knee.’

Draco glanced at her.  ‘Can we discuss this back at the manor?’

‘If you mean go there  _ right now _ and discuss this  _ right now _ , then yes, that will do just fine.’

He grunted, which she took as assent.

They walked silently and grimly to the Floo center.  At Malfoy Manor, Draco led her to the sitting room, politely offering her tea and a chair by the fire.  She accepted both, although she didn’t really want any tea.  It was something to do with her hands besides beat him about the head.

At last, they were seated across from each other with cups of tea and no other way of stalling.

‘I  _ have _ been a tosser,’ Draco said grudgingly, staring into his cup.  ‘But may I just protest that I had my reasons and leave it at that?’

She laughed, harsh and mocking.

He grimaced.  ‘I thought not.’  He sighed.  ‘How about if I explain why?’

‘That  _ might _ save you from a good caning,’ she said archly.  ‘Start explaining and we’ll see.’

Draco shot her an unhappy look, but she was past caring.  This had gone on for far too long, and she no longer had the patience to suffer his attitude.  If he had to squirm a little, all the better, in her opinion.

‘Reason one: I want to ask Ginny to marry me.’

Hermione blinked.  ‘So…you thought the best way to get her to say yes was to be a tosspot so she’d see what a  _ catch _ you were?’

He sneered.  ‘Yes, obviously, it’s a foolproof plan.’  He rolled his eyes.  ‘I’m nervous, all right?  I’m not sure whether she’ll say yes, and I’m not sure how to go about it, and I haven’t been brave enough to ask anyone for advice, so I’ve just been stewing over it.’

She mulled that over.  Now was not the time to inform him that he had every reason to be nervous about Ginny saying yes or not--she wanted to stay on the topic at hand, and anyway, at the moment, she didn’t feel as though he really deserved to know.

‘Okay.  I can buy that.  What’s reason two?  Nerves alone aren’t a good enough excuse at this point,’ she added, raising a brow.

He drew a deep breath.  ‘Yes, I know,’ he admitted quietly.

Draco paused for a moment, and she allowed him to gather his thoughts, rather generously, in her opinion.

‘Reason two is about what I told you before, except…I didn’t tell you the whole thing,’ he said, looking away shamefaced.

She found it difficult to breathe all of a sudden.  She’d thought that alone was horrid enough.

‘Then tell me now,’ she urged him, her voice strained.

He nodded once, but still couldn’t bring himself to look at her.  ‘I…told all of you, back when we were just becoming friends, about how part of the reason my parents started hating Voldemort was because he made me use the Cruciatus on disgraced Death Eaters?’

She waited, but he said nothing further, and he still looked ashamed, and it made sense.  She immediately wished that it didn’t.

‘Oh, my gosh,’ Hermione said blankly.

He flinched, covering his eyes with one shaking hand.

‘Oh, Draco, you…he made you torture your own father?’ she realised, and she thought she might be sick.

Draco nodded stiffly.  She set her teacup aside because otherwise she would have dropped it.

‘Only for a few days, after Father came home from Azkaban.  Father kept telling me it was okay, that he didn’t blame me, that it wasn’t my fault,’ he ground out.  ‘I had to blame someone, and I was afraid to even think about Voldemort, so I blamed Father.  I told myself that I hated him, that it was  _ his _ fault that we were in this position--that he  _ deserved _ it.  I don’t think I could’ve gone through with it if I hadn’t convinced myself that Father deserved every bit of it.’

‘And then Voldemort would have killed you,’ Hermione put in lowly.

He sniffed, stirring his tea.  ‘Probably.  Or had me tortured, too.  It doesn’t really matter now.  What matters is that I tortured Father, and some part of me enjoyed it.  And after, he still protected me.  He protected me from Voldemort’s wrath, and from my own guilt.  And I haven’t thanked him, or told him how sorry I am.’  He took a shaky breath, looking everywhere but at her.  ‘It’s eating me up, Hermione, but every time I look at him, I…I can’t speak unless I’m angry.  My throat just closes up, and I can’t make it open up unless I make myself feel angry.  So I’ve been either yelling at him or ignoring him, and I’m only hurting him more and it’s killing me.  I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I…I don’t know what to do,’ he said in a wavering, small voice, his lips quivering.  ‘And now this happens.  That daft idiot dropped everything and violated his probation just to find me, because he wanted to protect me.  Or at least that’s what Ron said.’

Hermione wiped her cheeks.  ‘Ron informed you correctly,’ she croaked.

He smiled bitterly.  ‘Idiot,’ he murmured fondly, shaking his head.  ‘Please tell me you didn’t let him come willingly?’

‘Of course not.  He kept chasing me, I kept telling him to go home and not be stupid, and he grabbed me as I was Apparating.’

Draco rolled his eyes with a chuckle.  ‘Sounds like Father.  He’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met who wasn’t a Weasley.’

‘Like father, like son,’ she teased.

They shared a wobbly smile and left behind the heavy moment with an effort.  She had to admit that Reason #2 was a perfectly good reason to be acting horribly, although she wished he’d come to her about it or admitted it at the time, rather than struggling with it alone all this time.  It therefore came as a surprise to her that those weren’t the only two reasons.

‘And…there’s one more thing,’ he added with a heavy sigh, looking slightly embarrassed now.

Hermione raised a brow.  ‘Oh?’

He shifted, biting his lip.  ‘Well, it’s…I’ve been….’  He set his teacup down, too, and met her eyes squarely for the first time in the whole discussion.  ‘I’ve been trying to come to terms with the idea that my father may marry someone my age in the near future.’

She stared in total shock.  Draco smiled wryly, rubbing his thighs with nervous energy.  She had not been prepared to defend herself in this discussion, and her mind drew a complete blank as she raced to come up with a response.

‘I’m all right with it now,’ he reassured her when the silence had stretched for far too long.  ‘It was just a bit of a shock at first.  I know it’s common for age gaps to happen in the wizarding world, and I rather expected that if Father ever remarried, he would choose someone younger, like Mother did, but I wasn’t prepared for him to choose someone I went to school with, someone I consider a friend.  The thought of calling you Step-mother is a bit jarring,’ he added with a little grin.

Hermione blinked.  ‘Please don’t ever,  _ ever _ call me that, under  _ any _ circumstances.’

His grin widened.  ‘Promise not to be wicked?’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘So this is why you’ve been acting nasty every time you find your father and me alone together?  You were having trouble with the concept of the two of us as a couple?’

‘Essentially, yes.’

She picked up her teacup and toyed with it to avoid looking at him.  ‘Well, I don’t think you need to worry about that.  We’re just friends.’

Draco scoffed loudly, startling her into meeting his eyes.  ‘My father is not  _ just friends _ with you, Hermione.  If he was  _ just friends _ with you, he wouldn’t touch you.  He wouldn’t let you touch him.  He’d keep a respectable distance between you at all times.  He wouldn’t ask your opinion about anything, and he would make it clear that unsolicited opinions were unwelcome.  He’d barely make eye contact with you, ever.  This is how my father acts with witches he calls “friend.”  It’s  _ not _ how he acts with you.’

She shifted uncomfortably.  ‘Best friends, then.’

Another scoff.

‘Draco!  I’m just different from any friend he’s had before, that’s all.  It’s not like he’s treating me the way he treated your mother.’

He conceded that with a nod.  ‘No, he’s  _ way _ more openly affectionate with you than he ever was with Mother.’

She nearly choked on her tea, and not because it was cold.

Draco raised a brow.  ‘What?  They loved each other, but they had both been brought up in very strict, cold households.  Appearances were to be maintained at all times.  My father thought he was being too openly loving and soft with me when he deigned to pat my shoulder and say “Well done.”  It was only as I got older and we grew farther apart that he started thinking perhaps Mother had the right idea, and by then it was too late, the patterns of our relationship were already set.  My parents’ idea of displaying affection was to rub elbows at the dinner table, and kiss each other’s cheeks when they thought I wasn’t looking.  The rest of the time, there was a rigid gap between them, and they tried to be cold and emotionless.  And public displays of affection were nonexistent.’

Hermione mentally reviewed Narcissa’s interactions with Andrew--the few she’d seen, that is.  That sounded about right.  She took his arm, and they danced, and the rest of the time they didn’t touch or look at each other, merely remaining side by side.  It was effective at showing them as a unit, but didn’t appear very loving.  She could only recall seeing Lucius and Narcissa together before the divorce once--at the Battle of Hogwarts, and after.  During the battle, they had run together, which was not an opportune moment for touching or kissing or anything but accidentally bumping each other.  Afterward, the whole Malfoy family huddled together in the Great Hall, shell-shocked, but Lucius and Narcissa kept Draco in between the two of them, holding onto him, shielding him.

‘It might be different now, if she hadn’t divorced him,’ she protested.  ‘You don’t know.  Lucius isn’t the same person he was.’

‘It doesn’t really matter,’ Draco said, shrugging one shoulder.  ‘Maybe he’d be clingy, like he is with you.  Maybe he wouldn’t.  Maybe he would be, and Mother would hate it and divorce him anyway.  It’s useless to speculate, because they aren’t together anymore, and they don’t love each other anymore, not like that.’

She studied him, frowning.  It was one thing for Neville to observe that Lucius was watching her a lot, but Draco knew his father better than anyone.  It sounded a lot more definite coming from him, and was therefore a lot harder to refute.  That didn’t mean she couldn’t try, though.

‘And you think he loves  _ me _ like that?’ she said doubtfully.

‘I  _ know _ he does,’ Draco corrected.  ‘He’s always trying to get closer to you--close is never close enough.  He finds excuses to touch you, even if it’s just brushing your arm or your shoulder.  I never walked in on my parents snuggling on the couch--and I don’t buy that he was just happy that you and Kingsley worked it so he could go outside.  He could’ve been happy inside and hid it from you, like he does with everyone else.  He shows you what he’s feeling, unguardedly, and I’ve never seen him willingly hug anyone before in my life.  He practically squashed  _ you _ , and wouldn’t let go for hours.  You’re always on his mind, he talks about you near-constantly.  Your opinion is practically solid, proven fact in his view.  If he doesn’t love you, then someone’s got him under the Imperius or some other form of mind control.’

She couldn’t argue any of those points.  Lucius was a naturally cold, standoffish person, and while she had noted it as  _ odd _ behaviour for him, she hadn’t taken any special notice of the fact that he didn’t want to let go of her hand when he had it, that he wanted contact constantly, that he leaned as close to her as he could when he couldn’t touch her.  A part of her had simply written it off as desperation for a gentle human touch after going so long without any.  It still sounded reasonable to her…except he didn’t act this way with anyone else.  He only seemed to want to be touched by her, or by Draco.  And he loved Draco.

She squirmed.  ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she insisted thickly, swallowing.  ‘He’s just grateful, and I’m all he’s got besides you…I’m just around too much, and he’s confused….’

Draco frowned at her quizzically.  ‘Do you…not love him back?’ he asked slowly, as though the possibility had just occurred to him.

Hermione flicked her gaze away nervously.  She wasn’t a very good liar when she didn’t have some half-truth or rationalisation to base it on.  She said nothing.

He smiled smugly.  ‘I knew it.  I  _ knew _ you loved Father.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she muttered.

His smile only grew.  ‘But you didn’t say you  _ didn’t _ , either.  You do, you love my father!’

She straightened.  ‘Our personal feelings toward each other are irrelevant, Draco,’ she said in the coldest voice she could muster.  ‘He’s my student.  I’m his teacher.  We can be friends, but it can’t go any farther than that.  And anyway, we have bigger problems at the moment, like defending your father at his hearing tomorrow.’

He sobered immediately.  ‘Now that you’re conscious, I assume you’ll testify?  They’re rather upset about the fact that he was found holding your wand.’

‘Of course I’ll testify.  I pretty much made him take my wand, so that wasn’t really his fault,’ she added sheepishly.  It had seemed like a good idea when she was half-conscious from pain and blood loss, but she hadn’t considered the consequences of Lucius possessing a wand when he wasn’t supposed to so much as touch one.  ‘I just wanted him to be able to defend himself.’

Draco grunted.  ‘He didn’t even try, from what Harry tells me.  He just started using it to try to heal you, with very little success at first.’

She stood, uncomfortable with this step back into dangerous territory.  ‘Then that’s something Harry can tell them tomorrow.  Meet me at the Ministry in the morning?’

‘Sure.  Nine o’clock?’

‘Sharp.’

She went home, but sleep was elusive.  Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucius sleeping on his cot, curled in a ball, and worried that he’d have a nightmare, and she wouldn’t be there to help.  Even Crookshanks couldn’t soothe her to sleep, so eventually she gave up and started working out how she would word her testimony.

She didn’t think about what Draco had said.  If Lucius reciprocated her feelings, then she stood no chance of maintaining her distance anymore, and that could not happen.  Draco was obviously mistaken, and that was that.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Kingsley was waiting for them when they arrived in the atrium, having been alerted by someone or other that they were on their way.  His face was a mask of anger and regret.

‘Hermione, Draco,’ he said, falling in step with them and making no move to stop them.  ‘I’m sorry about what Lucius had to go through.  If I’d been here, I never would have allowed--’

‘We know, Kingsley,’ Hermione interrupted gently.  ‘It was just bad timing.  We know you came as soon as you could.’

Draco was solemn.  ‘What’s going to be done about Porter?’

‘He’s in custody, and he seems pretty confident,’ Kingsley said with dark glee.  ‘He seems to think that if he just talks enough and explains himself enough, we’ll see that he was just doing his job and he can go free.  We haven’t disabused him of that notion.  So far, he’s admitted to working with Cooper and Galloway, he claims because even though Cooper was on the wrong side, they shared the same goal of “punishing” the Death Eaters in custody.  Lucius got the worst of it because he was so high profile, but Porter’s already admitted that they routinely beat all of the prisoners in their care.’

‘And the other rumours?’ Hermione prompted softly.

He shot her an uneasy glance.  ‘He’s confirmed that regular Cooling Charms were Cooper’s way of amusing himself at Lucius’s expense, so that’s true as well.  He hasn’t admitted to the Legilimency, but since he was caught red-handed this time, it’s a fair bet that that rumour is true, too.’

She nodded, her lips set in a grim line, and they arrived at the entrance to the detention center.  Campbell opened the gate with a tired smile, letting them pass.

‘Good morning, boss,’ she said cheerfully despite her obvious weariness.  ‘Good morning, Hermione, Mr Malfoy.’

‘Draco, if you please,’ he corrected automatically.

She shrugged.  ‘All right.’

‘Your relief will be Danson,’ Kingsley informed her.  ‘He should be down in a few minutes.  Use the usual precautions.’

‘Aye, Cappy,’ Campbell said, saluting.  ‘Oh, before you go in--Mr Malfoy had a rough night.  I had to cast a sleeping spell on him.  I made it a light one, but he was still out the last time I checked.’

Kingsley thanked her for the information.  Hermione winced--sleeping spells weren’t often used because they trapped a person asleep, regardless of physical considerations or nightmares.  A witch or wizard could still wake up--briefly--to use the toilet if given Dreamless Sleep, although they wouldn’t be very mentally aware, and they would fall asleep again right after (sometimes without making it back to bed), but at least they  _ could _ wake up to take care of their body’s needs.  The ‘dreamless’ portion took care of the nightmares.  Under a sleeping spell, the person couldn’t wake up from their nightmares, forced to watch them play out, and they wouldn’t waken no matter how urgent the need.  Unfortunately, Dreamless Sleep wasn’t part of an Auror’s normal equipment, and Campbell couldn’t have abandoned her post to go and request any, so she’d had little choice.  Although, personally, Hermione would have chosen to let him keep having nightmares and waking up, even if it meant listening to him scream from time to time.  It was much preferable, in her opinion--she hated sleeping spells.

Draco’s nose wrinkled as soon as Kingsley opened the door.  ‘I’m glad I brought him fresh clothes,’ he muttered.

Hermione sighed unhappily.  She hoped they could clean him up without waking him, for the sake of his dignity, if nothing else.

With Kingsley’s help, they managed it, even changing the sheets, but Draco said that while the cleaning charms were perfectly fine, it would be better if they let him change his clothes when he woke up.

‘He won’t take kindly to knowing he was naked while unconscious,’ he explained with a wince.

She could understand that, and with all the cleaning charms done, he’d be none the wiser about what had happened while he was asleep anyway.

Lucius didn’t look content, though, and for the first time that she could recall, Hermione hoped he would wake up soon.  He was silent, but frowning deeply, looking almost pained, and the lack of restful sleep had left him with dark circles under his eyes.  He remained tightly curled up, his arms tightly clamped around his torso as though that would protect him, knees tucked against them.  She longed to reach out and touch him, to smooth away the frown and calm him, but she didn’t dare, not with Kingsley standing there, and not after what Draco had said last night.  She needed to be more careful.

At last, his eyelids flickered and he moaned quietly, stretching.  He froze when Kingsley chuckled, his eyes snapping open.  They were pale, nearly translucent with fear.

‘Good morning, Mr Malfoy,’ Kingsley said, pretending not to notice.  ‘How are you this morning?’

Lucius blinked, his face clouding with confusion, and slowly sat up.  ‘I’m well, how are you, Mr Shacklebolt?’ he rasped, his tone perfectly even and polite despite the hoarseness of his voice.

Kingsley chuckled again.  ‘Liar.  I’m very well.  I just got in this morning, and I wished to extend my apologies as soon as possible for the ill treatment you suffered in my absence.’

Lucius blinked again, remaining silent.  Hermione stilled the urge to reach out to him.

‘I also wished to ensure that you are prepared for your hearing this afternoon,’ Kingsley went on, unperturbed.  ‘As you know, it is within your rights to ask for a postponement if you feel you are not yet ready, physically, mentally or legally.’

He straightened a little, clearing his throat.  ‘I’m prepared.’

Kingsley smiled.  ‘Good.  Then if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to.’

They nodded to each other, all polite, proper wizards, and Kingsley swept out with a wink at Hermione.  As soon as the door closed behind him, Lucius dropped his eyes to the floor, pressing his hands between his knees.  She realised he was trembling, but before she could think of what to do or say, Draco moved.  He stood before Lucius with a cold expression, his hands on his hips, and Hermione forced herself to wait and see what he was about before giving in to the fierce protectiveness that had raised its hackles again.

‘Father, look at me,’ Draco commanded sharply.

Lucius flinched and raised his eyes from the floor, staring at Draco’s waist so he was technically obeying, but didn’t have to look Draco in the face.

‘What,’ Draco bit out, ‘in the seven circles of hell were you  _ thinking _ ?  You could have been killed!’

Lucius’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.  His lips were bloodless, his eyes still almost colourless.

‘You  _ weren’t _ thinking, were you?  A more boneheaded, Gryffindor move I’ve never heard of!  If you ever,  _ ever _ worry me like this again, I _ will _ ground you, do you hear me?  I don’t care how old you are, I swear I’ll do it!’

Hermione relaxed a little, watching Lucius blink in confusion as the actual words registered.  Draco’s lips were twitching as he fought to keep from smiling.  Finally, Lucius seemed to gather his wits.

‘Who’s the parent here, you or me?’ he said hoarsely, raising a brow.

‘Technically you, but since you seem to have all the sense of a thirteen-year-old Hufflepuff, I think it falls to me,’ Draco said dryly, allowing the smile to peek out.

Lucius was not cheered up.  ‘You won’t have to ground me,’ he said dully, dropping his gaze again and picking at the scratchy blanket.  ‘Since I’ll be in Azkaban.’

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore; she sat beside him, tentatively touching his arm.  He stilled, but didn’t cringe away.

‘We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that  _ doesn’t _ happen,’ she said firmly.  ‘I’m going to testify, and Harry, too, and even Ron has agreed to testify on your behalf.’

He made a noise that might have been a grunt if his throat hadn’t been so ragged.  ‘Testify to what?  I left Hogwarts castle, which was a violation of my probation.  I Apparated--violation two.  I--’

‘No,  _ Hermione _ Apparated,’ Draco cut in tersely.  ‘Which is another thing, you could’ve been Splinched grabbing onto her like that.’

Lucius shrugged wearily.  ‘I went to the Ministry without a pass to visit or an appointment--violation three.  I used a wand--violation four.  These are facts.  I did all of those things knowingly and willingly.  No amount of testimony will alter what happened.’

Hermione frowned.  ‘Like Draco said, you only had  _ three _ violations--your probation conditions mentioned nothing about being Side-Alonged.  And anyway, your motives--’

‘Do not change that I did what I did while in full possession of my will and wits,’ Lucius interrupted tiredly, rubbing one eye.  ‘I don’t think my motives will matter to the panel selected from the Wizengamot.’

She exchanged a frustrated glance with Draco, pressing her lips together.  Draco shook his head and held out the stack of clothing he’d brought, changing the subject.

‘Here, I brought you some fresh clothes, Father.’

He looked faintly pleased by that, glad to get out of the ill-fitting prison uniform he’d had to change into yesterday, even though he certainly seemed convinced that he’d be getting right back into a prison uniform after the hearing.  Hermione was obliged to turn away again while Draco helped him change.  The conjured brush was still lying on the table where she’d left it, so she grabbed it and turned to Lucius with intent when they said it was okay.  He eyed her warily until he realised she was just holding a brush, not a wand.

‘Thank goodness,’ he sighed, holding out his hand for it.  ‘I need that.’

She held it out of his reach.  ‘Turn around.’

Lucius looked confused, but he obeyed, and Hermione sat behind him and got to work on the snarls that had accumulated during his stay.  Draco had thought of that, too; he produced a vial of Lucius’s preferred hair tonic with a smile.  Hermione shot him a grateful glance, as it certainly helped with the tangles, and would make Lucius feel more himself.  He relaxed once she got into a rhythm, and only let out a noise of protest when she accidentally bumped the wound on his head with the brush.  The mediwizard had mostly mended it, but it was still tender.

‘Sorry,’ she said lowly, and he nodded a little, subsiding.

After she was finished, he looked much more natural, although his eyes remained dull and flat.

‘Thank you,’ he said hollowly, and offered the most obviously fake smile she’d ever seen.

Hermione sighed and put her chin on his shoulder, leaning against him.  She could feel him quivering, but her touching him first seemed to make him brave--he hesitantly took her hand and leaned into her, too.  Draco sat on his opposite side and began talking about nonsense that no one cared about, just to fill the silence.  Hermione was grateful, because that, too, made Lucius relax a little as he let Draco’s voice wash over him.  He probably wasn’t actually listening, but Draco’s chatter was a sign that Draco wasn’t angry with him anymore, and she had no doubt that that was extremely welcome right now.  They still needed to talk, but Lucius was not up to heavy discussions of any kind.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked quietly during a pause.

Lucius shrugged.

‘I brought you some breakfast.’

She’d brought lunch and a snack, too, because she fully intended to see him well fed before he stepped into the courtroom.  He didn’t show any interest until she removed one of the containers from her beaded bag, his eyes lighting a bit when he realised it was one of her containers from home.  Smiling, she popped the lid off and held out the container and a fork.

‘A waffle and some scrambled eggs with cheese,’ she said coaxingly.  ‘Courtesy of the Granger kitchen.’

Lucius immediately accepted the container and dug in, showing more signs of life than he had the whole time.  He became more animated with each bite, it seemed, and Hermione was very, very grateful that he’d developed such a taste for her cooking.

Draco grinned and carried on with his mindless chatter, encouraged by this revival of Lucius’s spirits.

‘So,’ Lucius interrupted when he’d finished, ‘we’re going with the “worried parent” defence?’

His eyes were blue again, with some light in them, and he was sitting straight now, no more fearful hunching.  Hermione and Draco shared a delighted grin.

‘It does seem like the best approach,’ Draco began, ‘especially since it’s true.’

He began telling Lucius all that their solicitors had planned.  Hermione laid back and watched Lucius listen, intent and serious, occasionally interjecting his own point here and there.  Her wound was paining her, so she didn’t contribute much of anything, content to rest and let them strategise.  Around noon, she interrupted long enough to tempt Lucius with the sandwich and potato wedges she’d brought, which was not at all difficult--all she had to do was pop the lid on the container and mention she had made it, and Lucius had it half devoured before she was finished speaking.  It was just as easy to get him to eat the apple and cheese for a snack around one-thirty, because even though she hadn’t actually made them, it seemed to be enough for him that she’d been the one who bought them and brought them.

Shortly after he’d finished, Danson came to announce that it was time to start heading out for his hearing.  Hermione watched him carefully, but other than putting on his normal disdainful, cool mask, Lucius didn’t appear to react in a negative way, even when Danson regretfully informed him that he’d have to be handcuffed.  The food and company had helped.

Draco and Hermione reluctantly left, headed for the courtroom via the regular entrance, rather than the prisoners’ entrance.  She did manage to squeeze Lucius’s hand before Danson took him down the opposite hall, though, and offered him a supportive smile.  He squeezed back, but maintained his cool, arrogant expression.  It was a defence mechanism he sorely needed at the moment, and Hermione couldn’t begrudge him that, although she thought the panel might be a little kinder if he looked more pitiful.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The legal preliminaries were boring, so Hermione spent most of the first hour watching Lucius.  He was sandwiched between his primary solicitor, Franklin Dunn, and the three others who were allowed to sit with him (she wondered briefly how many were on the Malfoy payroll, and then decided it could be hundreds and she didn’t care that much).  He didn’t look uncomfortable or small, though--his mask was near-perfect, so that he appeared that he might have been sitting down to a budget meeting or afternoon tea rather than the hearing that would decide his immediate future.  She was glad they had cleaned him up and fed him, as it made him look his normal self.

When it finally came time for testimony, the Aurors who had taken Lucius into custody were permitted to go first, since they had to get back to work immediately after--things at the Ministry still weren’t considered safe by any means, and Kingsley had suspended all regular Ministry guards for the time being, leaving the Aurors and Aurors-in-training to pick up the slack.  Neither Auror had much to say, concisely reporting that after the dust had settled, they and the other Aurors began searching for Death Eaters who were still present and conscious.  They knew of Lucius and the terms of his probation, so when they found him sitting next to Hermione, holding her wand, they arrested him and took him to a holding cell.

‘Did you see Mr Malfoy cast any spells?’ Dunn asked when it was his turn.

He was a boring sort of man with a boring sort of voice, but he was also a no-nonsense fellow who liked to get straight to the point.  Hermione could appreciate that about him, since she didn’t want to be here for hours.

Both Aurors answered no, in their turn, and were dismissed.

For much the same reason as the two arresting Aurors, Dunn called first Ron, and then Harry up next.

Ron’s ears were red, but his expression was serious for once, and he didn’t squirm or quail after he was sworn in.  Nor did he appear to notice the attention he was getting from the visitors’ seats, or from one of the male members of the five-member panel.

Hermione didn’t know any of the five Wizengamot members who’d been chosen, but she wasn’t at all surprised, just like she hadn’t been surprised that Lucius’s hearing had been squeezed into one of the smallest courtrooms available--he was lucky to be getting his hearing so soon at all, since the main concern of the Ministry at the moment was dealing with the captured Death Eaters.  It was most likely only due to Kingsley that they had fit him in at all, so a tiny courtroom and low-ranking, unimportant members of the Wizengamot were only to be expected.  Even Rita Skeeter had given Lucius’s hearing a miss, finding the Death Eater trials more important and exciting.  Either that, or she was in beetle form and watching instead, although Hermione had no idea what the point of that would have been.

‘Mr Weasley, can you tell us the circumstances of Mr Malfoy’s arrival at the Ministry?’ Dunn droned, his eyes half-lidded and his hands folded over his stomach, as though he didn’t care at all.

Ron shifted a little.  ‘Well…I didn’t see him arrive, but I don’t believe he’d been there long when I  _ did _ spot him.  He was standing with Hermione, and she’d just whacked him in the head with her wand.  I cast a Stupefy at them before I realised it was them, but it missed, thankfully.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘I came over and we found a somewhat shielded spot where I could update Hermione on the situation.’

Dunn yawned.  ‘Did Mr Malfoy appear to be armed?’

‘Uh, no.  In fact, Hermione kept yelling at him about trying to go out into the fight without a wand, actually,’ Ron said with a grin.

‘Did he say why he was there?’

‘Yeah, he was looking for Draco.’

‘Why?’

Ron shrugged.  ‘He didn’t say, exactly.’

Hermione frowned at that, but it was true, Lucius hadn’t specifically said he was there to protect Draco--it had just been obvious to anyone who knew him.  Still, at least Ron had learnt not to speculate or editorialise on the witness stand.  He’d been scolded for that quite often during the post-war trials.

‘Was Professor Granger injured when you left them?’

‘No, and Malfoy still didn’t have a wand.  I lost track of them after that, since I was with Ginny and Draco.’

Dunn moved on, cracking his eyes open a little wider.  ‘What did you do after the battle?’

‘I went around looking for my friends and family, to make sure they were all right.  I knew Ginny and Draco were fine, so Ginny went off to look for Fred and George and Percy, and Draco went with her, and I went to find Harry, Hermione, Neville and Dad.  I found Neville helping with the wounded, and then I found Harry and Dad arguing with some Aurors over Malfoy, who was trussed up, but then I spotted Hermione, and--’

‘Can you describe her condition?’

Ron scowled at the interruption.  ‘I was about to.  She was all bloody and unconscious, so I went and grabbed one of the mediwizards who’d just arrived.  By the time he determined she was stable enough to be moved, Malfoy had been taken away, so Harry and I went with Hermione to St Mungo’s.’

Dunn sighed.  ‘And what was Mr Malfoy’s condition, besides “trussed up,” Mr Weasley?’

Ron shrugged.  ‘I didn’t get a close look, but he was all dusty and I thought maybe he looked sick.  I wasn’t sure, though, like I said, I didn’t get a good look.’

Dunn shuffled a couple of papers.  ‘So, as far as you know, Mr Malfoy came to the Ministry in search of his son, unarmed, and was arrested?’

‘Well, yeah.’

The speaker of the panel--who also happened to be the wizard with an eye for Ron--dismissed him kindly without asking any questions.

Harry stepped up, and naturally the whole room was riveted to him.  Hermione mentally rolled her eyes; Harry shot her a rueful, pinched look, feeling as annoyed as always by all the attention.

‘Mr Potter, when did you realise Mr Malfoy was at the Ministry?’ Dunn began with another sigh.

Harry straightened his shoulders.  ‘When I saw him and Hermione off to one side.  I’d been separated from Draco, who was backing me up, and I’d been looking around either to find him or a new partner for a while.’

‘What were Professor Granger and Mr Malfoy doing?’

‘Mr Malfoy was staying down, tucked up in a corner, while Hermione tried to defend their position.  They were under attack by two Death Eaters, who were coming at her from two different sides, so she was having some difficulty.  I tried to fight my way over there to help her, but I got caught up in a different fight and was distracted for a bit.’

Dunn’s eyes opened a little wider again.  ‘Was Mr Malfoy armed at that point?’

‘Not that I could tell.’

‘Did you see them again during the battle?’

Harry looked up at her, and she could see his swallow all the way from her seat.  ‘Yes,’ he said softly.

‘What happened, Mr Potter?’

He rallied, readjusting in his seat.  ‘Well, I defeated my opponent and immediately started making my way over again.  I couldn’t see them at first because there was a lot of dust and smoke.  When I arrived, one of the Death Eaters she’d been fighting was unconscious, and Hermione was lying on the floor, unconscious and--and wounded,’ he said, a bit choked.

Dunn offered Harry a faintly sympathetic look.  ‘What was Mr Malfoy doing?’

‘He was bent over her, he--he had her wand, but it wasn’t obeying him at all.  He was trying to use a healing spell on her.’

‘How do you know?’ the speaker of the panel put in.

‘Because that’s what kind of spell he used when it finally started working,’ Harry said in a voice that made plain how stupid he thought that question was.

Dunn cleared his throat, refocusing their attention.  ‘You recognised her wand?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I asked him what happened.  He said Dolohov--one of the Death Eaters who’d been attacking her--had got her and he was trying to heal her, but her wand wouldn’t listen.  I told him to keep trying, and that I would cover them in the meantime.’

‘Why didn’t you perform the healing spell yourself and have Mr Malfoy cover the two of you instead?’ the speaker asked, tilting his head.  ‘If the wand wasn’t obeying him, then didn’t it seem unlikely he would succeed?’

Harry openly rolled his eyes.  ‘I didn’t reverse our positions  _ because _ the wand wasn’t obeying Mr Malfoy,’ he said with open annoyance.  ‘If it was already resisting him while trying to do a healing spell, I wasn’t about to risk our safety to him trying a battle spell, even a defensive one.  If I had switched with him and the wand had continued to refuse him, then all three of us might have died.  With him trying the healing spell and me defending, I knew at least Mr Malfoy and myself might make it out alive.  I didn’t want Hermione to die, either, but she could have died either way.’

Dunn looked annoyed at this second interruption, shooting the speaker a glare, but he moved on without comment.

‘Did you see Mr Malfoy cast any other spells besides the healing spell?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Harry said firmly.  ‘And I don’t think he cast any before I came over, because the wand wouldn’t have let him.’

‘What happened after the healing spell was complete?’

‘The battle ended.  Mr Malfoy sat with Hermione, so I figured she was in good hands and went off to help with the wounded.  When I looked over to check on them, I saw Auror Farnby blast Mr Malfoy off his feet, even though I could see Mr Malfoy wasn’t holding Hermione’s wand anymore and was clearly holding his hands up in surrender,’ Harry said angrily.  ‘He smacked into the wall--it looked like he hit his head pretty hard, so I charged over and started arguing with them that he didn’t need to be arrested.  They took him away anyway.’

Dunn was not prepared to deal with the other aspects of Lucius’s arrest today--although Draco had told Lucius that the solicitor was already preparing their case against Porter, since they had every intention of pressing their own charges against him alongside the Ministry’s.  He was also preparing their case against Cooper and Pickett, and the Ministry in general.

‘So every time you saw Mr Malfoy, he was either doing nothing, or he was actively helping someone in need?’

‘Yeah, that about sums it up.’

There was more legal garbage, so Hermione left for a while.  She needed a little fresh air.  She hadn’t thought, when she was charging to Lucius’s rescue, about how worried her friends must have been about  _ her _ \--about how near death she’d been, and how that might have affected them.  She just went into protector mode and stormed off to save the day again.

And…sitting in that same position for a long time was making the sharp ache in her wound flare up.  She paced and carefully stretched for a while, waiting out the pointless cross-examining.  They would never ask Harry anything deliberately hostile, either because they themselves worshipped him or because they knew the populace at large did, and asking, ‘Are you  _ sure _ you saw what you think you saw?’ was pointless.

Harry finally emerged, though, looking quite pleased with himself.

‘They’re ready for you in there,’ he said with faint satisfaction.  ‘I think the fact that I’m on his side is going to do the trick, but you can stick the final nails in.’

She wasn’t nearly as confident.  ‘I’ll try.’

When she re-entered the courtroom, she was immediately ushered into the witness chair and sworn in.  She sat stiffly and stared straight ahead, trying not to jostle her wound too much, or give away how much pain she was in.

‘Professor Granger, can you tell us how the events started?’ Dunn asked kindly.

She cleared her throat with an effort.  ‘I was teaching my third-year Muggle Studies class when Harry’s Patronus arrived in my classroom and announced that the Ministry was under attack and reinforcements were needed.  I dismissed the students to their common rooms and headed out of the castle, sending a Patronus to alert the other teachers, just in case Harry hadn’t sent them one as well.  Mr Malfoy,’ she said, and inwardly winced, because she had called Harry by his first name, but it was too late now, ‘was in my class, so he heard the message, too, and his son Draco works at the Ministry.  He followed me, announcing his intention to accompany me.’

She paused, swallowing thickly.

‘What was your response?’ Dunn put in.

She huffed out a half-laugh.  ‘I told him he was being ridiculous--that he wasn’t allowed to go and he didn’t have a wand anyway, so he should go home.  I thought that was the end of it, so I continued outside to the Apparation point.  When I arrived, I realised Mr Malfoy had followed me, and I again told him to go home.  Instead, he grabbed onto me as I was Apparating.’

She stalled out, shutting her eyes briefly as the pain spiked a little, shifting uncomfortably off of her left side as much as she dared.

‘Professor?  What happened then?’

Hermione mustered a wan smile.  ‘When we arrived at the Ministry, we drew Ron’s attention--accidentally--and he came over to help us out.  We found a decent enough spot to hunker down, and Ron and I shielded and tried to defend it.  Mr Malfoy kept looking for Draco, and tried to go to him when he spotted him, but I prevented him and convinced him that he was just going to get himself killed if he persisted.  He did as he was told after that.’

‘And what did you tell him to do?’

‘To stay down and stay put.  Ron went to help Ginny when he spotted her, so it was just Mr Malfoy and myself.  Then we were attacked by Dolohov and another Death Eater--’

‘You’re sure it was Dolohov?’ the speaker cut her off, his eyes narrowed.

Ah.  Another person who viewed her as a threat because she had dated Ron.

‘Yes.  He’d been sending me anonymous notes for over a year, and he taunted me with them.  Plus, we have…history.’

She waited, but the speaker didn’t try to refute that.  She grimly thought that was a good thing--save the real grilling for Dolohov’s trial, when she would undoubtedly have to testify.

‘The two of them managed to manoeuvre me away from Mr Malfoy, and Dolohov tried to attack him.  Mr Malfoy was unarmed, naturally, so I disposed of the other Death Eater as quickly as I could and blocked the spell physically,’ she said with an edge of shame.  She was still upset with herself for reacting so instinctively, rather than thinking first.  ‘I was injured.  Dolohov was going to press his advantage, but he was engaged by an Auror and drawn away from us.’

Hermione fell silent.  This was the important part, but she didn’t know how to explain herself now, long after the fact.

‘What happened then, Professor?’ Dunn prompted, a little impatiently.

She cleared her throat.  ‘I was injured, as I said, so Mr Malfoy attempted to perform a healing spell wandlessly.  It failed.’

‘What do you mean?’ the speaker asked sharply.

She flicked her eyes to him briefly.  ‘Exactly what I said.  He incanted a healing spell without a wand, and it failed.  It did not function.  The magic just stopped.’

Dunn snorted.  ‘It’s irrelevant, Mr Dukes.  Please continue, Professor.’

She felt sweat trickle down her spine.  She wanted to go lie down.  She took a shallow breath.

‘After that, he tried to apply what he had learned in my class,’ she said with a faint, fond smile.  ‘He attempted to use the Muggle method of staunching blood flow--he applied pressure to the wound.  Meanwhile, I was less concerned with myself and more concerned with the fact that he was now essentially alone and unarmed.  I offered him my wand.’

The room fell completely and utterly silent for a moment.  No one even shifted.  This was a detail they had been unaware of--and there was a major difference between taking a wand off an unconscious witch, and taking her wand when she freely offered it.  Not to mention that offering one’s wand to another wizard was kind of a big deal.

‘You  _ offered _ it to him,’ the speaker repeated tonelessly, blinking with shock.

‘Yes.  He refused.’

This caused a rustle of confused murmuring, so Hermione raised her voice and hurried to continue.

‘Mr Malfoy said no, so I  _ commanded _ him to take it.  I told him to defend himself.  He finally took it, and I lost consciousness.’

When she darted a glance at Dunn, he looked very pleased.  She didn’t dare look at Lucius.

‘You were aware that even touching your wand would be a violation of Mr Malfoy’s probation?’

She licked her lips.  ‘Yes, I….  I just wanted him to be able to defend himself.’

The speaker cleared his throat.  ‘If you offered him your wand, then why did it resist him so strongly?’

_ That _ made her smile.  ‘It didn’t, Mr Dukes.  Actually, it was fairly cooperative.’

He started to scoff.

‘Clearly, you don’t know my wand, Mr Dukes.  Its core is unicorn hair, and it is very loyal.  The last person who touched it  _ accidentally _ without my permission got burnt.  Literally.  You may ask Mr Ollivander if you don’t believe me, but I assure you, my wand is simply very…attached.  It does not wish to be parted from me, even  _ with _ my permission.  The fact that Mr Malfoy eventually convinced it to work for him at all is proof enough that the wand was freely offered.’

Dukes frowned.  ‘Then weren’t you concerned that he wouldn’t be able to defend himself with it anyway?’

‘Of course not.  As I believe I mentioned, I was injured.  I was bleeding quite heavily, and wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.  My only thought was to give him a way to defend himself--at the time, it did not occur to me that that might not be possible regardless.’

‘Mr Malfoy is a former Death Eater, known to harbour anti-Muggle sentiments,’ Dukes pressed.  ‘Why would a Muggle-born such as yourself trust him with something so potentially dangerous?  He could have taken the opportunity to finish you off.’

Hermione sighed.  ‘The key word there is “former,” Mr Dukes.  Mr Malfoy has made great progress in my class, and shows greater enthusiasm for the subject of Muggle Studies than any of my other students.  He  _ formerly _ harboured anti-Muggle sentiments, but I have felt no ill-will from him toward myself in many months, now.  If I’m not mistaken, that  _ was _ the point of the Wizengamot making him take my class in the first place, was it not?  For him to gain an appreciation of Muggle-borns?’

Dukes’s frown deepened and he abandoned that line of thought.  ‘Professor Granger, why do  _ you _ believe Mr Malfoy was so insistent on accompanying you?’

She looked at him coolly.  ‘Speculation, Counselor.’

Another ripple of amusement passed through the crowd.  Dukes was not amused, but Dunn clearly was, if the chuckle he tried to turn into a cough was any indication.

‘We will note, for the record, that this is merely opinion,’ Dukes said testily.  ‘But you apparently know and trust Mr Malfoy enough to offer him your wand.  Was he rejoining his fellow Death Eaters?’

‘ _ No _ !  He would  _ never _ do that!’ Hermione snarled, with a whole lot of emotion and not a whole lot of thought.

Dukes’s brows rose, and he smirked faintly.  ‘You’re that sure?  Then why  _ did _ he go with you, knowingly violating his probation and endangering you and himself?’

She very nearly growled, skewering Dukes with her glare.  ‘Because he loves his son, Mr Dukes.  He loves Draco more than anything else in the world, and the mere thought that he might be in danger knocked all the sense out of Mr Malfoy’s head.  He did what any parent would do when they learnt that their child was in the midst of something like that.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Dukes sneered.

She looked at him coldly.  ‘You asked for my opinion, Mr Dukes, and you have it.  Mr Malfoy insisted on coming with me regardless of the personal cost because he wanted to see with his own eyes that his son was safe.  I hardly think he can be faulted for that.’

Another ripple ran through the spectators, and this one felt like approval.  Dukes must have sensed the change in the wind, the sympathy Lucius was receiving now, because he immediately backed down.  He sat one of the  _ elected _ Wizengamot seats, after all.  The crowd clearly held her opinion of Lucius in high regard after her revelation that she had willingly offered him her wand.

‘Very well,’ Dukes said, scrambling to sound polite now.  ‘If there are no further questions, then you may step down, Professor Granger.’

Dunn indicated that he didn’t have any, so Hermione stiffly stood and limped back to the stands.  Draco met her halfway and helped her to her seat, his brow wrinkled with concern.  While Hermione wasn’t happy to be in pain, she  _ was _ at least pleased to note that this reminder of the injury Lucius had healed seemed to increase the other spectators’ positive feelings toward him, if the approving looks directed at him were any indication.

Lucius was looking at her with his lips parted and his expression unreadable, though she could detect a faint furrow in his brow.

‘Are you all right?’ Draco whispered.

She forced a smile.  ‘I’ll be fine.’

He didn’t look convinced, but then his attention was drawn away as the last testimony was about to begin--Lucius was being sworn in.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius made every effort not to appear as discomfitted as he felt.  In truth, he was actually quite terrified--although Hermione’s food and constant presence at his side for most of the day had helped immeasurably.  The fact that Draco no longer seemed to be angry with him (aside from being more than a little put out about him risking his life so foolishly) was also a comfort to him, because at least if they sent him to Azkaban anyway, he would go knowing that he and Draco were on speaking terms again.

‘Before we begin, let us establish the salient facts.  Mr Malfoy, you knowingly left Hogwarts castle and set foot on the grounds without permission, correct?’ Dukes began immediately, not letting Dunn get started at all.

It wasn’t protocol, and Dunn was clearly annoyed, but this time Dukes did what he pleased.

Lucius didn’t see the point in trying to lie his way out--he’d obviously done these things.  There was also really no point in pretending to be arrogantly confident, as he was very definitely  _ not _ confident that he would get out of this without another turn in Azkaban.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said quietly, letting his shoulders droop just a little, dropping his eyes.

‘And you knew it was a violation of your probation?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You also entered the Ministry of Magic without a pass to enter the area, and without a previously established appointment, in full knowledge of the fact that it also was not an area open to you under the terms of your probation.  Is that correct?’

He suppressed a sigh.  ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Lastly, you not only held but used another person’s wand, which is also a violation of the terms of your probation, correct?’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’

Dukes smiled smugly.  ‘Good.  Now that we’ve establish the three violations and the fact that you admit to your guilt in the matter….  You may proceed, Mr Dunn.’

‘ _ Thank _ you, Mr Dukes,’ Dunn sneered.  His tone was a great deal more polite when he addressed Lucius.  ‘Mr Malfoy,  _ why _ did you go to the Ministry?’

‘Because I heard the Patronus message from Mr Potter, and I knew it meant that Draco might be in danger,’ he said honestly.  ‘I didn’t consider anything else at the time.’

‘So it only occurred to you after the fact that you were in violation?’

Lucius grimaced.  ‘ _ Long _ after the fact.  I didn’t realise what I’d done until Her--Professor Granger and I were already in the midst of the battle.  And even then it took a while to sink in.’

‘Your son was the  _ only _ thought on your mind?’ Dunn prodded.

‘Yes.’

Lucius could read a crowd--they’d been pleased and approving ever since Hermione’s testimony, and it only increased now.

‘What happened when Professor Granger was injured?’

The memory of her lying there flashed across his mind.  It was difficult to swallow, suddenly.

‘She was awake, at first, but seemed confused.  I was familiar with the spell modification that Dolohov favoured, thanks to our previous…association,’ he said, and even saying it brought a bitter taste to his mouth.  ‘I know a few healing spells for emergency situations, so I chose the one that I knew would be most effective against that particular modification.  Unfortunately, I was unable to perform it without a wand, so I resorted to the emergency first aid I had learnt in Professor Granger’s class.  There’s a whole chapter about surviving various injuries using Muggle methods.’  He frowned.  ‘That wasn’t really working, either, though, because the wound was so long that I could only apply pressure to one section of it.’

Dunn made a slightly impatient noise.  ‘Is that when Professor Granger offered you her wand?’

The possession of the wand seemed to be the major point against him, rather than his showing up at the Ministry at all.

‘Yes,’ he said shortly.

Lucius was still coming to terms with her somewhat impassioned defence of him--and only when  _ she _ said it had it occurred to him that she knew exactly what it meant in pureblood circles for one wizard to offer his wand to another, and she had done it anyway.  It was all a little too much to deal with right now, between that revelation, his own realisation that he was in love with her, and the muddled state of his mind, courtesy of Porter.  Then there was his worry for her--she hadn’t looked well.  He wanted to get through this so she could get help if she needed it, and not stay here waiting to see what happened to him.

‘You refused it?’

‘Yes, I….’  He hesitated.  ‘I didn’t know what she wanted me to do, and I knew I wasn’t supposed to touch it.’

‘But you accepted when she told you to take it.  Did you plan to defend yourself, like she told you to?’

‘No.  I thought if I set it aside, she would rest.  Then she passed out, and I realised that it was an opportunity to try to heal her again.’

Dunn almost looked excited, for once.  ‘So you never had any intention of using it to attack or defend?’

He tried not to sigh aloud.  ‘I didn’t have any intention of using it at all, at first, and then afterward, I only thought of healing Professor Granger, so no, I never had any intention of using it for battle.’

‘Thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ Dunn said, looking very self-satisfied.

Dukes opened his mouth, but the approval radiating off the spectators was nearly palpable by now, so he reluctantly closed it again, and had the witch at his side dismiss Lucius back to his place.  The panel members put a privacy bubble around themselves and talked for a solid twenty minutes.  Lucius spent the time watching Hermione--she was sweating and pale, holding her left side.  Draco murmured in her ear occasionally, and she nodded without lifting her eyes from her knees.  Lucius willed her to be all right.

At last, they emerged from the bubble, and Dukes was looking sour.  This was a good sign for Lucius, and he perked up a little in spite of himself.

‘Mr Malfoy, we have decided that the punishment for your violations is to be confined to your home for a period of one week.’

That was… _ incredibly _ light, and not at all what he’d expected.  He listened, light-headed, as they explained that he wouldn’t be allowed in his gardens for the week, and that he would also be barred from attending class for the week.  Considering that he’d been steeling himself for another stint in Azkaban, that seemed like nothing.

Kingsley personally came over to remove the handcuffs, smiling widely.  Lucius had no idea when he’d got there, because he hadn’t seen him the whole entire time, but he was too relieved to quibble anything right now.

‘Congratulations, Mr Malfoy,’ he said, slapping Lucius on the back.

Lucius righted himself and tried to smile.  ‘Thank you, Mr Shacklebolt.’

‘Mind if I escort you home?’

‘Not at all,’ he said, and ignored his confusion over Kingsley’s sudden interest in him.

Hermione and Draco joined them in the hall outside, Hermione leaning heavily on Draco’s arm.  Lucius quickly nudged him out of the way so Hermione was leaning on  _ him _ instead; Hermione smiled tiredly at him and said nothing, while Draco merely raised his brows and shook his head as though he despaired of them.

It wasn’t long before they were back at Malfoy Manor.  Lucius busied himself making Hermione comfortable, settling her on the sofa in the sitting room and fussing over her.  She seemed bemused by the attention, but didn’t protest at all, remaining quiet and cooperative.

‘Draco, bring her a pain potion,’ he commanded when he’d determined that it was her wound hurting her.

Draco did as he was told without comment; clearly, he’d noticed Hermione’s state, too.  Kingsley even looked concerned when he looked at Hermione, but he didn’t interfere.

Hermione drank the potion when it came and relaxed into the cushions a little, sighing.  Lucius sat on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa and holding her hand.  She didn’t seem to mind.

‘I can see you have something on your mind, Kingsley,’ Hermione said at last.

Kingsley nodded seriously.  ‘Yes, but nothing terrible.  I wanted to warn you ahead of time, Mr Malfoy--you’re going to have to testify against Porter.’

Lucius gave a slightly wobbly nod, unsurprised but not pleased.  ‘I assumed so.  I assume I’ll be doing a lot of testifying.’

He sighed.  ‘Almost all of us will, I’m afraid.  These preliminary trials don’t require many witnesses, but sooner or later, they’re going to need everyone who was in the atrium to testify against the Death Eaters we caught.  You, and you, Hermione, are going to be particularly key in the case against Dolohov.’

Hermione’s hand tightened around his briefly.  ‘I thought that might be the case.’

‘And…we’re going to need testimony against any other guards who might have been abusive.  All the way back to 1996, at least,’ he added pointedly.

Lucius paled, but he nodded stiffly.  He wondered if there was a way to testify against Porter and the rest without actually having to be in the same room as them.

Kingsley stood.  ‘Just so long as you’re all prepared.’

He excused himself shortly after.  Silence fell as Draco contemplated the fire in the hearth, Hermione contemplated the ceiling, and Lucius contemplated Hermione.  All the things they needed to say hung heavy in the air between them, but all three of them seemed to be in agreement that they were too exhausted for any serious conversation.  They needed to rest and recuperate before they even attempted to clear the air.

‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend your class this week,’ he said at last.

She smiled.  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t count it against your three non-medical absences.’

‘Thank goodness,’ he said dryly.  ‘I was really worried about that, you know.’

Her smile brightened, and Lucius sighed, resting his cheek against their linked hands.  He was quite content at the moment, so it wasn’t surprising when he drifted off to sleep.


	20. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius and Draco have a long overdue heart-to-heart. Hermione mediates where necessary, and afterward, tells Lucius of their plans to schedule him a couple of appointments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's mostly a recovery chapter, with some necessary setup. I thought poor Lucius and Hermione needed a breather, and it was past time for Draco and Lucius to patch things up a bit.
> 
> Not much to say this time, otherwise. Thank you all for reading and/or commenting! :)

Lucius woke with a crick in his neck again, but this time it was worth it, because he’d hung onto Hermione all night this way.  They must have dropped off not long after him, because she was still on the sofa behind him, loosely gripping his hand and making soft hums when she exhaled.  Draco was still in the armchair, fast asleep, with his thankfully-empty teacup dangling dangerously from one finger.  Lucius took a moment to feel smug about being the first one up for once and stood stiffly from the floor--not his brightest idea to date, as his body promptly informed him.  Wizards didn’t age  _ quite _ as fast as Muggles did, but forty-five-year-olds still had no business sleeping sitting up on the floor.

Hermione stirred as soon as he released her hand, frowning and reaching for him with her eyes scrunched shut, muttering an incoherent protest.  He smiled fondly and couldn’t resist the urge to bend down and press a kiss to her temple.  She sighed, settling back into sleep immediately.  He quietly crept from the room, headed for the kitchen.

He still felt muddled, having been much too exhausted yesterday to exert any energy even for mental tasks.  Even though he  _ knew _ they weren’t real, it was difficult separating the images of Hermione rejecting him and condemning him in his cell from his emotional state.  He knew that Porter had manufactured those moments--Hermione had been unconscious at St Mungo’s the whole time--but they still produced an ache he couldn’t seem to shake.  Porter had known exactly what button to push to cause Lucius the most anguish.

Then there was the humbling realisation that Hermione had  _ offered _ him  _ her wand _ .  It hadn’t occurred to him at the time, and he’d been a bit busy being beaten and mentally tortured for a while after, but it had sunk in at the hearing exactly how much that meant.  How much Hermione trusted him, believed in him.  Offering another wizard the use of one’s wand was tantamount to pledging fealty to them, down to the soul--which was part of why it had been so hard to give his own wand to the Dark Lord when it was demanded of him.  He’d no longer had such unshakeable faith in the Dark Lord, and giving him his wand was the last thing he’d wanted to do at that point, and his family’s continued survival had been the only reason he’d done it.  Since his wand was destroyed shortly after, he’d never know if it would have responded to him the same way again.  It was a little disturbing, because the wand’s reaction would have told him exactly how willing he’d been at the moment he handed it over, regardless of appearances or lies he’d told himself.  Although, perhaps it was for the best that he hadn’t ever touched it after the Dark Lord had, leaving his oily aura upon it.

He was curious to know how Hermione’s wand would react now, but he didn’t think he really had the right to ask, after she woke up.  He forced the thought from his mind and back to his own troubles.

Hermione’s offer juxtaposed with the fake images Porter had planted, leaving his head spinning a bit.  Add in his still-undealt-with realisation that he’d fallen in love with Hermione at some point, and he was in serious need of some time to think and sort through his emotions.

But not today.  Today, he wanted Draco and Hermione close to him.  He needed to reassure himself that they were both alive and safe, now that he didn’t have the worry of going back to Azkaban hanging so urgently over his head and the dust had settled.

‘Tibby?’ he called tentatively as he came down the stairs.

The other house elves froze and then turned themselves invisible, but Tibby rocketed at him, and Lucius found himself with an armful of distressed house elf.  He was knocked back a couple of steps, and grunted a little as Tibby’s tight grip around his torso made his ribs send notice that they were still a bit tender, and would appreciate a little care and consideration, thanks very much.  Therefore, it took him a moment to realise that the horrendous noise he was hearing was coming from Tibby, and that the front of his robes were getting damp--she was crying against his chest, giving great, wailing sobs.

Lucius blinked down at her in confusion, but it didn’t look like she was going to stop any time soon, and he  _ had _ had a reason for coming down here.  Still, he couldn’t just toss her off.  Stiffly, he reached up and patted her shoulder.

‘There, there,’ he said awkwardly.

She let out a particularly loud wail and lifted her head, looking up at him with huge wet eyes, her wrinkly little face even wrinklier than normal and reddened with her distress.

‘Oh, Master!’ she cried.  ‘Master is back!  Tibby worried about Master for days!  Young Master was upset, and Master was gone!  Where was Master?’

Lucius cleared his throat, feeling oddly touched and embarrassed.  ‘I was in jail, and I didn’t have a Get Out of Jail Free card.’

Tibby let go of him, hopping onto the counter and wringing her hands.  ‘Tibby would have brought Master one, if Master had called!’ she sniffled, looking genuinely hurt.

He sighed.  ‘It was a joke, Tibby.  I don’t think Get Out of Jail Free cards exist outside of Muggle board games--remind me to ask Hermione to teach you how to play Monopoly sometime.’

She gave a little bounce, her ears lifting as she perked up.  ‘Tibby would like that very much!’

‘Hmm,’ he hummed, wryly thinking that she would enjoy beating them all with her underhanded tactics.  ‘Well, anyway, I’ve been in jail, and Hermione’s been in St Mungo’s--’

‘Miss Hermione was hurt?!’ Tibby cried with renewed distress.

He suppressed another sigh.  ‘Yes, and she’s still in a bit of pain, so I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind--’

‘Tibby and the others will get breakfast started right away!’ she shouted, glowing with excitement, and bounced away faster than the human eye could follow.

‘Thank you,’ he said, although he didn’t think she was listening anymore.

It was a bit dizzying, actually, watching them all speed around, so Lucius retreated from the kitchen as quietly as he could, lest Tibby attack-hug him again.  Draco and Hermione were still sleeping, so he went to the entrance hall to place two Floo calls.  The first was to Draco’s assistant, to let her know that Draco wouldn’t be in today.  The young lady’s eyes shot wide and she quivered with fear at the very sight of his head in the flames, but she nodded and thanked him for informing her.

The second was to Minerva McGonagall, and while Lucius didn’t quiver in fear, he did swallow hard and found himself fidgeting a bit under her narrow stare.

‘Lucius Malfoy,’ she said in a tone that made it clear exactly where he ranked on the list of people she’d like to be contacted by.  ‘To what do I owe the honour?’

‘Honour’ was uttered with implied quotes.

He ducked his head a bit.  He’d been intimidated by her as a student, and had never outgrown it.  She still made his insides turn to mush, made him want to confess that yes, it  _ had _ been him who’d switched out the Gryffindors’ Muggle, regular-flavoured jelly beans they’d received in care packages from home with some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans that he’d made certain were all nasty-tasting ones, back in his second year.  She’d never quite believed it was that fourth-year Hufflepuff he’d sweetly, innocently implicated.

‘I just wanted to inform you that Professor Granger is still feeling unwell,’ he said, struggling not to mumble as she continued to pin him with her gaze.  ‘She is resting at the moment, and I thought that it might be wise for her to take today off?’

He couldn’t help the uncertain, questioning lilt at the end.  McGonagall was twenty times more unnerving to him than Dumbledore had ever been, because he felt like she could see straight through him without even trying.

Her face didn’t soften, but her tone was fractionally gentler when she replied.  ‘Ah.  Actually, I was hoping to speak with Hermione myself, but  _ perhaps _ you can be trusted to tell her that I would like her to take today  _ and _ tomorrow off to recover,’ she said, quirking a brow at him.  ‘I would also like you to inform her that I wish to speak to her on Thursday morning, before her first class, if you would be so kind.’

‘Of course, Professor,’ he said politely.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and turned her attention to a parchment on her desk.

Dismissed, Lucius ended the call, sitting back on his haunches and trying to get his nerves back under control.

‘Arranging our lives for us?’ an amused voice said.

Lucius jumped.  ‘Draco!  Don’t sneak up on me like that,’ he scolded, climbing stiffly to his feet.  ‘You don’t know who I was calling.  It might not have anything to do with either of you.’

Draco just smiled, folding his arms.  ‘You only get that look on your face when you’ve just seen Professor McGonagall, so at the very least, you were sticking your nose in  _ Hermione’s _ business.’

He peered around Draco, but the hallway was empty.

‘She’s still asleep,’ Draco confirmed.

‘Oh.’ Lucius rubbed at the ache in the side of his neck absently.  ‘I suppose I was being a bit interfering.  I let your assistant know that you’d be gone today.’

Draco’s brows lifted with distinct amusement.  ‘I see.’

‘I did just call Professor McGonagall,’ he admitted, ‘but that was the extent of my interference there.  I was informed that Hermione will be taking today and tomorrow off, and asked to deliver the message that the good professor would like her to come to see her on Thursday before Hermione’s first class.’

He smirked, but his amusement was fading as his eyes tracked Lucius’s rubbing.  ‘Messenger boy,’ he teased.  ‘It’s a good title for you.  You could make a career out of it.’

Lucius harrumphed with feigned annoyance, smiling despite himself.

‘I’ll get you a pain potion,’ Draco added.  ‘And I might as well get Hermione one as well.  You shouldn’t have slept on the floor like that.’

He hunched his shoulders, dropping his hand too late.  ‘It isn’t like I meant to, any more than you meant to fall asleep in your chair,’ he said defensively.

Draco just gave him a look and went to fetch the potion.  Lucius wandered back to the sitting room, smiling as Hermione’s incoherent muttering reached his ears.  He sat cross-legged beside her, watching her expressions change, and all his muddled emotions and thoughts were pushed aside for a while.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Father?  Tibby says breakfast is ready.’

Lucius waved a hand in Draco’s general direction, not looking up from his intent study of Hermione.

‘We’ll be there in a moment.’

He heard Draco sigh.  ‘Okay.  There’s a pain potion for each of you waiting next to your plates--may I suggest that you both take those first?’

He gave another careless wave and heard Draco leave.  He propped his chin on the edge of the couch and lightly blew on Hermione’s nose.  The adorable, faintly freckled, slightly upturned nose immediately crinkled, her eyelids fluttering as she made a noise of protest.

‘It’s time to wake up,’ Lucius whispered.

Her eyes cracked open a tiny slit and she stretched.  ‘Lucius?’ she said fuzzily.

‘I’m here,’ he said, and made no attempt to mask the fondness in his voice.

Her eyes opened a little more, and he could see the instant she became fully awake.  ‘Oh, good,’ she said, and patted the top of his head with a cheeky grin.

He chuckled and drew out of her reach, climbing to his feet once more.  ‘It’s time to take our medicine and eat our breakfast, before Draco grounds both of us.’

‘He’s welcome to try,’ Hermione groused, but she accepted his hand up.  She winced when she stood, pressing her hand to her side, but waved off his concern with a strained smile.

Draco was waiting for them in the dining room, drumming his fingers on the table, but he perked up when they sat and downed the pain potions first thing.

‘So, Hermione, I don’t know if Father has filled you in yet,’ he said cheerfully as they all started eating.  Lucius had to admit that it actually tasted passable for once, although it was nowhere near as good as Hermione’s cooking.  ‘But apparently, you and I are taking the day off.’

Hermione looked up in shock, the egg she’d been balancing on her fork hitting the plate with a splat.  ‘What?  But I haven’t asked--’

‘The headmistress of Hogwarts has commanded it,’ Lucius said wryly, shuddering a bit at the reminder.  ‘I called her this morning.  She must have known about your injury already--she told me to tell you that you’re off today and tomorrow, and that she wishes to see you before your first class on Thursday.’

She subsided.  ‘Oh.’

Draco shot Lucius an amused glance over his orange juice.  ‘He plays coy now, but he was going to ask if you could have the day off anyway.  He went ahead and  _ informed _ my assistant that I wouldn’t be in today.’

Hermione’s lip quirked upward.  ‘Well.  I suppose it’s just as well.  We’ve all had a rough few days--we probably do need some time to relax.’  She paused.  ‘Has anyone bothered to check on Crookshanks while I’ve been indisposed?’

‘Harry’s been feeding him every day,’ Draco quickly assured her.  ‘Don’t worry, none of us wanted you to wake up only to find your dead cat at home.’

‘Thanks, that’s much appreciated.’

The morning  _ Prophet _ arrived for Hermione, and naturally, the Death Eater trials were plastered all over the front.  Much to his surprise, though, his hearing had made it into the paper, too, on page four.

‘Do I even want to know?’ Lucius asked glumly when Hermione announced it was in.

She skimmed it with a serious expression.  ‘It’s nothing bad.  Since we were there, it’s mostly a bore.  There is quite a bit of praise for your paternal instincts, though, so if you’d like to a good ego stroking from a low-ranking  _ Prophet _ reporter--’

Lucius snorted.  ‘Pass.’

Honestly, he didn’t exactly understand why people’s attitudes in the courtroom had done such a swift turnaround anyway.  Yes, so he’d been concerned for Draco’s safety, to the point of acting like a complete idiot--that didn’t actually make him a good father.  He’d utterly failed at parenthood, and he didn’t really believe that trying to keep Draco alive made up for all the many mistakes and bad choices he’d made.  He’d been trying to do better by Draco, but it hardly made up for all the years before.  Draco was an adult now--there were no do-overs when shaping a child’s life.

They finished breakfast and headed back to the sitting room at Hermione’s suggestion.  Hermione settled into one of the armchairs with a contented expression, but Draco had turned solemn on the short walk from dining room to sitting room.  Lucius watched with a mixture of curiosity and worry as Draco frowned at the fireplace, shifting agitatedly from time to time.  When he looked at Hermione, she gave a little shrug to indicate that she didn’t know what had got into him, either.

The silence sat.  It itched at Lucius, gnawed and clawed and aggravated him until he thought he might scream.  Draco wasn’t going to say anything, clearly, and Hermione had opened her paper again, working away at the crossword puzzle with her tongue clamped between her teeth.  It was adorable, but Draco was too distracting for him to enjoy watching her in peace.

Bravery.  Hermione would just demand to know what Draco’s problem was, if she’d been paying attention.  And Ginny would bully and nag Draco until he admitted it.  They were both bull-headed, stubborn Gryffindors--but their relationships with Draco were generally a lot smoother than his was.  When they  _ did _ have a problem, it was dealt with a lot quicker and with no outside interference, usually.  Lucius and Draco couldn’t seem to get along for more than a few days without Hermione around to interrupt and smooth their ruffled feathers.

Perhaps they had the right idea.  Perhaps the best way to clear the air was just to face Draco head on and demand answers.

Lucius’s insides shrivelled at the very thought.  What if Draco was angry?  What if he went back to pretending Lucius didn’t exist?  What if he moved out and left Lucius all alone?

He ground his own mind to a halt, forcibly tamping down on the panic.  This was  _ ridiculous _ .  He could ask a question, couldn’t he?  Surely Draco wouldn’t be  _ that _ angry over a question?  He’d never thrown Hermione out of their home over a question, or broken up with Ginny over any of her blunt statements.  True, Lucius was a completely different matter than either of them, but he still thought a  _ question _ was no reason to fly into a terrified frenzy.  He could do this.

Especially since Hermione was here to protect him, if Draco  _ did _ blow up.

Lucius took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.  ‘Draco, is there something on your mind?’ he asked as evenly and firmly as he could.

Draco jumped, looking up at him with wide eyes.  Even Hermione glanced up with a little surprise, but she was smiling approvingly, which staved off any cowardly weakening of will he might have felt.  She quickly turned back to her puzzle, or appeared to--Lucius could tell she was still attuned to them, merely pretending to be engrossed to offer them the illusion of privacy.

Draco cleared his throat, blinking away some of his shock.  ‘Um.  I….’  Then he seemed to get hold of himself, straightening.  ‘Actually, yes, Father.  Two somethings, actually.’

He relaxed just a fraction.  No explosions so far.

‘Very well.  What is the first thing?’

His son blew out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair and dropping his gaze again.  Lucius tilted his head, wondering what could possibly be so hard to say, and almost certain that it had to do with Draco’s unbearably awful mood these past weeks.  He’d almost given up and was about to say something encouraging when Draco finally responded.

‘I tortured you!’ he blurted loudly, and then covered his mouth with both hands, staring at the rug with a wild sort of expression.

Lucius blinked.  ‘Yes…?  I told you then that it wasn’t your fault.  I haven’t changed my stance on the subject.’

He’d rather deserved it, actually.  While most of him had been hurt--literally--there had been a small part of him that felt relieved, like he was offering Draco a little retribution, like it absolved him of just a tiny bit of the guilt for all the harm he’d done Draco.

Draco’s hands dropped, revealing that his mouth was hanging open.  ‘How can you  _ say _ that?!’ he demanded, and his voice was as wild as his expression.  ‘You know to perform the Cruciatus you have to want to--you  _ know _ that!  I  _ wanted _ to hurt you!  How can you say that it wasn’t my fault?’

‘Because I somehow doubt you’d have cast an Unforgivable on me, or anyone else, if the Dark Lord hadn’t forced you to,’ he said dryly.  ‘No matter how much you wanted to.’

His son couldn’t counter that, because they both knew it was true.  He grimaced, conceding that point with bad grace.

‘I still did it,’ he insisted stubbornly.  ‘You can’t just excuse me from any responsibility when you know that I wanted to hurt you enough to make the curse work.’

Lucius shrugged a little.  ‘All right.  You tortured me.  You’re sorry.  I forgive you.  Do you feel better now?’

Hermione made a soft, choked noise and lifted the paper higher to hide her smile, but not before Lucius glimpsed it.  Draco did not share her amusement, gaping at Lucius with dismay.

‘ _ No _ , I don’t feel better!  What is wrong with you?’ he cried.

He sighed.  ‘Many things.  None of them alter the fact that I don’t feel you tortured me of your own volition, or that it was undeserved, and therefore I don’t hold you accountable.  If you still feel responsible, that is your issue, not mine.  I have never once blamed you for that, Draco,’ he added, more gently.  ‘I wish you would accept it as an unfortunate incident and put it from your mind.’

Draco’s mouth worked for a moment.  ‘An unfortunate incident,’ he repeated blankly.

Lucius wished he knew the right words to make this okay, but he was not practised at talking about emotions and emotionally-charged situations, and his political smooth-talking abilities were of no use here.  He didn’t think Draco could be negotiated, bribed or threatened out of feeling guilty--if he was still five years old, maybe.  Those had been good times, when Draco’s tantrums and upsets were easily settled with the promise of a Chocolate Frog or a box of Ice Mice, or even a new toy, if candies weren’t enough.  Narcissa had never approved of his using bribery to control their young son’s moods, but she hadn’t been able to argue with the results, either--a quiet, contented little boy and a peaceful household.  She was right, though, of course, as Lucius found out when Draco got older and the demands got larger, until he was old enough to start demanding items like racing brooms in exchange for good behaviour.

Hermione had once mentioned to him that Muggles had manuals to help them parent.  He rather wished he’d had one of them when Draco was born, and then maybe he wouldn’t have made so many mistakes.

‘I can’t just put it out of my mind,’ Draco said scornfully, his brows drawing together.  ‘Especially not after what you did for me.’

Lucius waited, but Draco did not elaborate, staring at the fire and grinding his jaw.  He racked his brain, but he didn’t have a clue what Draco could possibly be referring to.  Seeking him out and almost going to jail for it?  Seeking him out during the Battle of Hogwarts?  On neither occasion had he been successful, at least not until after it was too late to be of any use, and it was nothing compared to all Draco had been through.

‘What I did for you?’ he echoed.

Draco scowled.  ‘Don’t play dumb.’

‘I’m not,’ he protested earnestly.  ‘I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.’

Hermione peered over her paper at him with narrowed eyes for a moment.  ‘He really doesn’t, Draco,’ she confirmed, and went back to her paper.

Draco’s hands clenched into fists.  ‘You volunteered to be tortured in my place,’ he said lowly.

Lucius remembered  _ that _ well enough.  Three consecutive hours of Cruciatus was nothing he’d ever experienced before, and he had no desire to ever experience it again.  It wasn’t something that could be easily forgotten.  He felt a faint echo of remembered pain in his chest just thinking about it.  He had been lucky to come out of it sane.

‘Oh, that,’ he said flippantly.

Draco stared in disbelief, his mouth hanging open again.  ‘ _ Oh, that _ ?!’ he squeaked.

Even Hermione abandoned all pretence of working on her crossword puzzle, the paper falling into her lap as she gaped at him.

‘What?  You’re my son,’ Lucius said gently.  ‘It’s my job to look after you, to protect you, no matter how old you are.  I haven’t always done a very good job at being your father--frankly, I’ve been pretty rotten at it most of the time.  But I  _ have _ always done my best to keep you safe.  And I will continue to do so, at any cost.  I haven’t always succeeded, and most of the choices I’ve made for our family have ended up putting you directly in danger, even though that’s what I was trying to avoid…but your life and well-being has always and  _ will _ always come first.  If I had to endure a thousand Cruciatus curses for you, I would.’

Draco bit his lip, his chin quivering, and Hermione quietly hid behind her newspaper again.  Silence reigned for a few moments, and then, for the second time that day, Lucius found himself being squeezed around the middle by something crying.  Draco wasn’t wailing, though, thankfully, just quietly sniffling, his tears soaking the front of Lucius’s robes--again.  He’d just been drying off from Tibby’s crying attack.

He patted Draco’s shoulder, but ‘there, there’ didn’t quite seem to cover it in this case.  He wished again that it was easy as it had been when Draco was small--waving a lolly in front of his face would have dried the tears right up.

‘I’ll just get some tea,’ Hermione mouthed, rising from her chair as quietly as possible.

‘Thank you,’ Lucius mouthed back.

She padded silently from the room, and Lucius was left awkwardly patting his weeping son.  After a moment, he tried petting Draco’s head, and that seemed a little more effective, as Draco’s shoulders slowly quit shaking.  He still didn’t let go, though, hiccuping and sniffling pitifully into Lucius’s chest.  It seemed a little easier, now, to say what he’d wanted to say for quite some time, and he doubted he’d ever get another opportunity like this.  He drew a breath, steeling himself, and forced himself to speak.

‘I have been a terrible father,’ he said, very quietly to hide the waver in his voice.  ‘I’ve failed you in so many ways, and I’ll never be able to make it right.  I’m sorry--so very sorry, for everything.  And I’m proud of you, even though I have no right.  I don’t deserve a son as good as you.  I’m sorry I don’t say it or show it enough, but I do love you, Draco, don’t ever doubt it.’

Draco let out a little sob and clutched tighter to him.  ‘I love you, too, Father,’ he choked out, and burst into fresh tears.  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shh, it’s all right.’

Lucius didn’t mind the crying so much this time, basking a bit in the relief of having said what he wanted to, and a bit in awe of the even  _ bigger _ relief of not being rejected, but rather reassured that his son still loved him.  That was nothing short of a miracle, in his view, and he was humbled by it.

Still, he was glad when Hermione returned with a tea tray, breaking the moment.  Draco pulled away but stayed sitting beside him on the sofa, sniffling and wiping his face on his sleeve until Lucius patiently handed him a handkerchief.  Hermione played mother for them, and it was a comfort to have a cup of tea to focus on instead of all those pesky emotions, even though he didn’t really want any tea.  Although the finger sandwiches were very welcome--he shouldn’t really be hungry, but Hermione had made them, he could tell on the first taste, and that made them irresistible.  Besides, it had been a little over an hour since breakfast, so he told himself it was all right.

Draco zeroed in on the biscuits and cheered up immediately--perhaps he hadn’t changed  _ completely _ since he was a little boy, Lucius reflected, trying not to smile.

‘Did you boys get everything sorted out?’ Hermione asked kindly, settling back into her chair with her own cuppa.

‘Not  _ sorted _ , exactly,’ Draco said huskily.  ‘But we’ve made a good start.’

Lucius nodded his agreement, and Hermione appeared satisfied by that.

‘I don’t think I can talk about that anymore right now, though,’ Draco admitted.  ‘If that’s all right.  I mean, I don’t think the subject is closed, but maybe we can table it for now?’

‘Fine by me,’ Lucius agreed quickly.

He had no desire to cause Draco further distress, so if they could move on to a subject that  _ wouldn’t _ end with him in tears, that would be good.

‘Then I think I should tell you the second something.’  He took a deep breath.  ‘I want to ask Ginny to marry me.’

He cringed afterward, clearly expecting an explosion.

Lucius sipped his tea.  ‘Are you going to use one of the heirloom rings from our vaults, or are you going to buy her a new ring?’

Draco’s jaw dropped for the umpteenth time that morning.  ‘You’re not angry?’

He frowned faintly.  ‘Why would I be angry?’

Hermione made a disbelieving noise.  ‘Lucius, did you not just hear what he said?  He wants to marry Ginny.   _ G-iiiiih-nny _ .  As in Ginny  _ Weasley _ .  Who is a Weasley, in case that wasn’t clear.’

‘Believe it or not, I have met Ginny on more than one occasion,’ he said dryly.  ‘I am aware that she’s a Weasley.  I assumed you were going to wish to marry her at some point, and I believe you’ve mentioned it before.  When are you going to ask her?’

Draco’s mouth flopped like a goldfish’s for several moments, making choked little noises.  ‘Valentine’s Day,’ he said at last, hoarsely.  ‘I’ve booked a reservation at Sir Gawain’s….’

Lucius snorted.  ‘Cliché.  People have been proposing there since  _ I _ was a boy, if not before.  You should choose somewhere that means something to  _ her _ .’

A bright smile blossomed on Hermione’s face.  ‘Oh, yes, Draco, he’s absolutely right!  You could still take her to dinner there, but don’t propose there--propose later, in a special spot.’

Draco blinked dazedly.  ‘Like where?’

‘Well, we’d hardly know, would we?  You’re the one who’s been dating her,’ she teased.  ‘You’ll have to think of somewhere.’

‘Oh.’  He continued to blink owlishly.  ‘I’ve bought a new ring for Ginny--I don’t think she’d be flattered to receive a Malfoy family heirloom,’ he added dolefully.

Lucius had to concede that.  ‘Probably not.’

Hermione’s smile had slowly faded, a furrow appearing between her brows.  ‘Draco…have you considered the possibility that Ginny might not accept?’

‘Of course I have!’ he snapped immediately, shaking off his daze.  ‘Why do you think I’ve been such a wreck?  I just…can’t….  I have to know, and how will I find out if I don’t ask?’

She grimaced, and Lucius wondered what Ginny had told her, for she clearly knew more than she was willing to say.

‘Just so long as you’re prepared for that possibility,’ she said carefully.

Draco snatched up another biscuit with marked agitation.  ‘Can we change the subject now?’

‘Certainly,’ she said, but her aspect remained grim, and Lucius stiffened when she turned to him.  ‘I think you need a healer.’

He nearly upset his teacup.  ‘But I’m fine--it was just a neckache--’

She heaved a sigh.  ‘No, I mean I think you need a full physical.  Head to toe, no stone unturned, checking-the-lint-in-your-navel physical.  You’ve never been properly checked over since…since Azkaban,’ she said, wincing slightly.

Lucius froze for a moment, then slowly set his cup down, pressing his fingers together to hide their trembling.  He couldn’t deny that, and the trouble he’d had with his neck was proof that he probably did need to have a more thorough examination than the emergency one he’d received at the Ministry.  That didn’t mean he liked the idea.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.

Hermione blinked.  ‘Okay?’

His mouth curled up in a wry smile.  ‘Yes, it means sure, fine, all right--’

She snorted, rolling her eyes.  ‘I just wasn’t expecting you to cooperate so easily.  You’re suspiciously agreeable today.’

Lucius nodded, pretending to consider that.  ‘Yes, it almost makes one think that I’m up to something, doesn’t it?’

‘You’re always up to something,’ Draco put in with a smile.

He shot Draco a brief grin, pleased that he seemed to be recovering.  She remained serious, though, unamused.

‘Also, I think….’

She hesitated, exchanging a glance with Draco.  Lucius’s wariness increased considerably when Draco’s expression turned somber as well and he nodded in accord with whatever she was about to say.  He looked between the two of them anxiously.

‘Draco and I are going to schedule you an appointment with a mind healer,’ Hermione said at last, meeting his gaze squarely.

Lucius’s stomach dropped.  ‘No,’ he said immediately, automatically.

Draco blew out a breath, but looked to Hermione.  Her expression turned pained.  He was glad he’d already set down his cup, because he was trembling so hard he would have dropped it now.

‘Lucius…you didn’t consent to have Porter use Legilimency on you,’ she said patiently.  ‘Even if you had, you know that Legilimency while concussed is dangerous.  You  _ need _ to be examined by a mind healer.’

Instinctively, he hunched in on himself.  ‘No,’ he repeated, more meekly.

‘Father, we’re not  _ asking _ this time,’ Draco said, gentle despite the words.  ‘This is something that  _ has _ to happen, no matter how any of us feel about it.  Who knows what kind of damage Porter did?  The sooner you’re examined, the easier it will be to fix.’

‘No,’ again, his voice wavering.  He felt trapped, closed in.  He didn’t want it.  He felt sick.  His pulse was pounding in his teeth and his tongue felt too large for his mouth, his throat clogging and his eyes stinging.

Hermione sighed.  ‘Lucius, what if he left a trigger behind, where someone says a certain phrase and you go crazy and start murdering everyone?  Or what if the phrase makes your mind shut down and you die?  And those are just things he might have left behind intentionally.  A mind healer or an experienced Legilimiser could find all of the damage, both intentional and not, and fix it.  Don’t you  _ want _ to have your brain back to normal?’

‘I don’t want any more strangers wandering around in my head!’ Lucius exploded, and curled in on himself, swallowing repeatedly to try to hold back the bile burning his throat.

They exchanged a glance and then looked at him with sympathy.  He didn’t want their sympathy--he wanted them to say it was okay, that he didn’t have to see a mind healer if he didn’t want to.

‘If there was an alternative, we would gladly--’

A thought struck him like a lightning bolt, and he cut across Hermione’s platitudes rather desperately.

‘One of you could do it!’

They exchanged another glance, and looked rather blank.

‘Both of you are trained in Occlumency, surely one of you could….’

Lucius trailed off, because Draco was shaking his head, grimacing.

‘Being a trained Occlumens is not the same thing as being a trained Legilimens,’ he said regretfully.  ‘It’s sort of like knowing how to shield but not how to attack, so to speak.  They  _ are _ very similar, and talent in one does indicate probable talent in the other, but the training is mutually exclusive.  I’ve never trained in Legilimency beyond a basic level.  I’d be risking making it worse rather than helping.  I’m sorry.’

Lucius inclined his head with a grimace of his own.  He and Draco turned almost as one to Hermione; she smiled wryly, clasping her hands with a soft sigh.

‘I have trained extensively in Legilimency,’ she admitted reluctantly.  ‘To help Harry and Ron practise Occlumency for their Auror training.’

Lucius leaned forward, every muscle tensed.  ‘Then you  _ could _ do it.’

Hermione hesitated.  ‘In theory.  There is still a difference between extensive training and less than a year’s worth of experience versus a certification and a career’s worth of experience.  I still think a professional mind healer would be a better idea.’

He shook his head obstinately.  ‘No.  No, I will not have any more strangers messing about in my head.  It’s you or no one,’ he added firmly, the nausea fading as determination steeled his nerves.  Besides, while the idea of a mind healer digging around in his psyche was terrifying, the idea of Hermione entering his mind was almost a comfort--he knew she wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, would soothe the hurts already there.  He trusted her implicitly.

She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon, but she nodded slowly.  Draco’s brows were raised and he kept looking between the two of them, but he remained silent.

‘Very well,’ she said grudgingly, her brown eyes dark with unspoken dissent.  ‘But not today.  We’ll wait until we’re both more rested--perhaps tomorrow, if we’re feeling stronger.’

‘Well,’ Draco interjected, deliberately cheerful, ‘if you’re to regain your strength, then we’d all better be having some lunch soon.  I’ll see if Tibby’s willing.’

Tibby was  _ very _ willing, of course, so they quietly ate lunch.  Lucius was quiet because he was tired, and he was afraid he’d upset Hermione.  Hermione appeared to be thinking, a furrow remaining between her brows even when she smiled at him.  Draco seemed to be being quiet because they were being quiet.

After lunch, Hermione said the Dreaded Words again: ‘I’d better go.’

‘What?  Why?’ Lucius protested immediately.

Draco tilted his head, frowning.  ‘In this instance, I have to agree--shouldn’t you stay and rest?  You can’t possibly think to get any work done today.’

Hermione stood anyway, at least having the grace to look reluctant.  ‘No, but I’d like to have a bath and some fresh clothes, and check on Crookshanks.  After that, I’ll probably be resting and letting Harry and Ron fuss over me for the rest of the day.’

‘They could come here,’ Lucius said hopefully.

She smiled faintly.  ‘They could, but they won’t, otherwise they would have been here at the crack of dawn.  They won’t want to disturb you while you’re resting--which is what  _ you _ should be doing with the remainder of your day as well, if you want me to try tomorrow.’

He subsided, spinning his empty teacup dejectedly until she reached out and stilled his hand, exchanging an amused glance with Draco.

‘I’ll be back tomorrow, whether we’re feeling up to trying it or not,’ she assured him sweetly, and bent down to kiss his cheek.

Lucius warmed.  ‘Well.  I guess it’s all right, then.’

‘Good.’

They saw her off, and Draco insisted that Lucius try to rest, as she’d said.  He spent the rest of the day lounging on the sofa while Draco worked, dozing off and on, with a brief interlude for dinner.


	21. Visible Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione attempts to heal Lucius's mind, and makes a discovery she can't ignore. Lucius has several things restored to him. Minerva is concerned for Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little present for you for the weekend. ;) Hopefully, this will come off making sense. I could picture it all in my head, but that doesn't necessarily mean it translated to being in written form very well. Some of it's a bit...abstract, which I'm not very good at. Also, hopefully it's not terribly cheesy or cliché. Basically what I'm saying is, I hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> Thank you all for reading and/or commenting, as always. Readers are lovely, commenters keep me motivated, but you're all lovely and deserve cookies. Unfortunately, all I have to offer is another chapter. ;)

Hermione’s day had gone exactly as she’d said, with Harry and Ron even insisting on tucking her in when she said she was going to bed.  The next morning, she took the day off as an opportunity to sleep in again, and rose a little after seven-thirty.

She wasn’t looking forward to heading to Malfoy Manor, but she had basically promised that she would, and Hermione tried never to break her promises.  Besides, it really did need to be done, and if Lucius would only allow _her_ to enter his mind, then she had to try.  He needed help and healing badly.  She only wished that she could have convinced him to see a professional.  It had been quite clear that his mind was made up, though, and she’d ached to see him so upset--he’d gone white as a sheet at the very mention, folding in on himself so that he appeared a mere husk, dimming until the light from the fire and the windows didn’t seem to touch him.

She had no excuse not to try, either; she felt much better, more rested, the wound mostly quiescent.  She ate a good breakfast and meditated for a while, strengthening her shields and the image with which she kept her mind organised.

It was nearly nine when she roused herself and went through to the manor.  Lucius was waiting for her with obvious anxiety, bounding forward to meet her.

Hermione smiled to calm him.  ‘Did you eat breakfast?’ she asked without preamble, leading the way to the library.  The sitting room would be more comfortable and more intimate, but the library put her more at ease, and would help her keep her mental image (and therefore, her shields) intact.

‘Yes, Draco made me,’ Lucius said quickly.  ‘Is that important?  Should I not have--’

She laid a hand on his arm and guided him to the armchair.  ‘No, you should have.  If you hadn’t eaten, I was going to make you eat something.’  She settled across from him, scooting the chair closer until their knees touched.  ‘And we’ll need to eat hearty after we’re through.  This will be more in-depth than any Legilimency I’ve ever done.’

And wasn’t that a harrowing thought.  She drew a shaky breath, clasping her hands between her knees and staring at them intently.

‘Did Draco go to work today?’ she asked, mostly for something to distract her.

‘Yes.  He said he ought to have gone yesterday, but he wanted to keep an eye on us,’ Lucius said lowly.  After a pause, he added, ‘You don’t have to do this.’

She looked up with an uncertain smile.  ‘Yes, I do, because you won’t see a mind healer on your own,’ she said pointedly.  ‘I can’t let this go, Lucius.’

He grimaced, gripping the armrests until his knuckles were white.  ‘Then let’s get it over with.’

Hermione forced her hands to loosen and touched his knee.  He jumped a little--he was wound tighter than she was.

‘Not like this,’ she said gently.  ‘We both need to relax.  Breathe with me.’

He looked at her like she was being ridiculous, but he ran through the breathing exercises with her anyway, and both of them were quite a bit calmer when they’d finished.  She kept her movements slow and her voice soft and even to help maintain the quiet, intimate atmosphere, to keep him calm.

‘Okay, now look at me, Lucius.  Meet my eyes.’

He hesitated, and she was watching him so intently that it was impossible to miss the flicker of fear before he made eye contact.  He tensed briefly, but her gentle expression seemed to soothe him right away.  She put her hands on their knees, her palms on her own knees and her fingers on his, to make a physical bridge between them in addition to the mental one they were about to have.  It wasn’t actually necessary, but she’d found it helpful when she helped Harry and Ron.

‘Breathe, Lucius,’ she reminded him, and then incanted the spell.  ‘ _Legilimens_ .’

Hermione was accustomed to Harry and Ron’s minds.  They weren’t anywhere near expert level yet, but they’d been working at developing Occlumency shields for a while before they asked for her help, so they had some rudimentary beginnings.  One of the most effective ways to maintain Occlumency shields at all times was to project a mental image, maintaining it with a combination of magic and willpower.  Hermione had had hers for so long that she barely noticed it anymore, unless she was deliberately concentrating on it to strengthen it.

Her particular mental image was a vast library, made up of many rooms.  Each thought, each memory, each bit of knowledge, was a book on one of the shelves.  It was guarded with a set of heavy oaken doors with a thick silver lock, each room with its own smaller locked door.  All of this was metaphorical, of course, but it was how Hermione defended her mind and kept it organised.  When she cast the spell, she unlocked the heavy front door to Lucius, letting him into her front room, where her surface thoughts and emotions lived.  She had worked very hard to shut her feelings for him away from here this morning, so all Lucius would feel was her friendship for him, her fondness for him, and her worry for him.  He wouldn’t see her love--it had been very difficult, but it had been worth it to suppress it to that level.

Ron’s mental image was still in progress, but she had not been surprised in the least when he developed it to the point that she began to recognise the Burrow.  He’d always been destined for a kind of ‘organised chaos,’ lacking the strict discipline to form, say, a bank or a department store, and he’d always felt safest at home with his family.

Harry’s was further along than Ron’s, but it had taken her a lot longer to realise that he was building Hogwarts castle.  She wasn’t certain he realised it, either--sometimes it wasn’t a conscious choice--but it wasn’t exactly surprising whether he’d chosen it deliberately or not.  Hogwarts was Harry’s first true home, and while it was incredibly ironic to say it was the place he’d always felt the safest, it was undeniably true.

She’d often wondered what Draco’s mind looked like, since he was an even better Occlumens than herself, according to Kingsley, but she thought it would be rude to ask for a peek.

Lucius had no shields at all, not even rudimentary ones, so she was taken off-guard by how easy it was to sink into his mind.  It was an amorphous blob, to her, although he seemed to understand himself well enough.

But what really knocked her off her (metaphorical) feet was what was directed from his mind directly at her.  It was warm and powerful and constant, a glistening green light that wrapped and wove itself around her.  Her first thought was jealousy, because it was green, but jealousy would have felt uglier, harsher--this was soft despite its immense power, and she had to firmly forbid herself to react when she realised what it was.  Lucius didn’t even seem to realise he was projecting it at her, constantly, so she did her best to ignore it, focusing on the rest of his mind instead of the constant sensation of green light pouring over her, into her.

She took a moment to get her bearings while he marvelled at her little entrance hall.

_That is what successful Occlumency shields are supposed to look like,_ she thought ‘at’ him absently.   _Not necessarily a library, but some system of compartmentalisation that makes sense to you._

She felt his amusement as a wave of sparkling silver light washing over her front room.

_Leave it to her,_ he thought, apparently unaware that she could ‘hear’ him.

She allowed him to feel her own reaction of amusement, and his embarrassment followed immediately after, darkening the room with sickly gloom.

_It’s quite all right,_ she assured him.   _It takes some getting used to, and honestly, who_ didn’t _expect me to choose a library?_

His presence in her mind lightened again.  She thought she was somewhat accustomed to his strange, formless mind, made up of mostly light and colours, it seemed, so she nudged him out of her front room, following him back into the cloudy mess of murk and light that was his mind.  This simply wouldn’t do, she decided.  How was she to see where the damage was if she had no idea what she was even looking at?  This was why he’d needed a professional--she’d never done this before, had no idea where to even begin, and she was just going to have to wing it.

She felt his despondency and realised that he’d grown accustomed enough to _her_ to follow her train of thought, and made an effort to create a small shield around herself so he wouldn’t pick up her every surface thought.

_We just need to clean up a bit first,_ she said kindly. _I need some kind of help sorting through it.  It might help if you tried to envision something like what you saw in my mind.  If there’s a representation of your thoughts that makes sense to me, then I’ll be able to navigate better._

She felt Lucius’s hesitation. _I have always failed at Occlumency whenever anyone tried to teach me._

The memories flashed by--Narcissa, then Draco, each spending a few days before giving up in disgust--Lucius’s humiliation at their obvious feelings that he simply wasn’t smart enough or disciplined enough.

_They’re not very good teachers,_ she said with more than a little annoyance.   _You ought to have sought out a professional.  They were too impatient with you, and didn’t try to show you an example of what you should be striving for.  Nor did they try to help._

_Help?_ he questioned hopefully.

Rather than explain, she demonstrated--she sent out a mental net, collecting his current thoughts and feelings--he was afraid, mostly--and envisioned a corner, where she stacked them like sheets of paper.

_See?_ she said.

A burst of understanding and excitement flashed in both of their minds like a firework, and the corner became a desk, instead.  The sheets of paper remained.  It wasn’t a fully fleshed out desk--it lacked colour and substance, like a faint sketch, but it was undeniably there.  His pride was red, and hot, like a summer day.  She acknowledged with a feeling of warm congratulations--and a little pride of her own, that he was such a good student in any subject, that he was so easy to teach.  He felt that, too, and this shy embarrassment wasn’t sickly or gloomy, more of a warming feeling than an actual colour.

_Narcissa and Draco just suck at teaching,_ she said with some satisfaction.

His amusement was stronger this time, but it faded after a moment as he turned his concentration toward organising more.  She let his consciousness wander away from her, deeper into his own mind while still maintaining the tether of their connection.  She let him organise while she sorted through what he’d already envisioned as sheets of paper.

It was here that Hermione found the false memories Porter had planted--her, standing in Lucius’s cell, condemning him for everything under the sun.  Spewing hatred at him.  Even in the memory, she could feel Lucius’s brokenhearted despair, even as he maintained a background awareness that this wasn’t real--couldn’t be real, because Hermione was unconscious in St Mungo’s.  She couldn’t help but feel a little proud of him for realising it on some level even as it was happening to him.

For herself, there were telltale signs that it was faked.  Unlike a real memory, it had no texture--real memories were associated, however loosely or fleetingly, with minor impressions, background details that the mind had decided were important enough to keep, scents, sounds, sometimes even a memory of temperature.  Real memories were three-dimensional, in other words.  A talented Legilimens could fake a memory on every level, leaving virtually no trace that it hadn’t happened.  Porter was a Legilimens, but not a particularly talented one, and these fake memories were paper-thin, with no background information, only the presence of the cell, and the only sound was her voice.  His rendition of her was somewhat accurate, since he’d drawn from Lucius’s real memories of her, but that was the best he could do.

That would make her job easier, at least in one aspect.

She vanished the false memories easily.  It was as though they’d never been, and if she wasn’t imagining things, that alone made Lucius’s mind seem just a little brighter, some of the murk receding a bit.

She followed him when she felt him stop moving--way in the back, deep in the murk.  That was where she sensed it for the first time.  It was so dark, and cold here.  Instinctively, she wrapped Lucius’s consciousness in the only form she could seem to take in his mind--a warm golden light.

_Did you make that?_ she wondered after he was shielded.

_No,_ he said simply.

He was frightened, she realised.  He burrowed into her shields, metaphorically speaking, so Hermione strengthened them and turned her attention to the black box they had found.  It had Porter written all over it--it had no texture, it was simply black, and a box, with a simplified vision of a lock attached.  It would be easy to break into.

She held off.  A lot of the bleak murkiness around them seemed to be leaking from that box, and a lot of the cold feeling.  It was hard to say what was inside.

_Lucius--I’m going to cut myself off from you.  Stay here._

Before he could protest, she slammed down walls and a floor and ceiling, until she was a formless golden light in a room with a black box.  She didn’t want the contents to spill out into the rest of Lucius’s mind, if this was a trap Porter had laid.  The murk and cold continued to seep out, curling back when it reached the boundaries she’d constructed.

She missed Lucius’s green light-emotion, which couldn’t reach her in here.

Since she couldn’t take her human form in his mind as she could in her own, it was difficult to ‘pick’ the lock, but she managed it.  Steeling herself, Hermione popped the lid with great care.

A blast backward hit her, and it took her a moment to realise that the box and the cold and the murk in her little cage had disappeared--it was the box itself causing those things, which she felt was part of Lucius’s depression, it wasn’t the _contents_ of the box.  The contents of the box were cause for joy, she realised.

Here were a good number of Lucius’s missing happy memories--not all of them, but a hefty chunk of them.  The Dementors hadn’t stolen all of them; Porter had taken some and locked them away where Lucius couldn’t find them.

His childhood was still gone, she realised, rifling through them rapidly, and she didn’t see many Hogwarts memories, either.  The Dementors must start with early memories and work their way forward.  Or they had with Lucius, anyway.

But here was most of his married life.  Porter must have been trying to both torment Lucius and get him to shut up about his family at the same time.  Hermione filled to bursting with joy for him, and sorrow for herself, as she glimpsed each special moment with Narcissa and/or Draco, tinged in green light that glistened and sparkled on its own, or a blue light for Draco.  One memory, though, not just tinged but _pulsing_ with blue light--that one ground her search to a halt, and even though she felt guilty, she held it up and immersed herself in it.

_Lucius and Narcissa’s bedroom.  The midwife was packing her things.  Narcissa was on the bed, looking sweaty and pale and exhausted, but so, so happy as she gazed down at the little bundle in her arms.  Lucius hovered near the door, uncertain what to do with himself.  The midwife left with little more than a grunt for him, and normally he would’ve stopped her, demanded more respect, but he was afraid he’d wake the baby._

_He didn’t know what to do.  His father had told him how important it was for the mother and child to bond, especially at first.  He didn’t want to interfere with the natural course of things--get in the way.  Uncertainty did not come naturally to him.  He didn’t like it._

_Narcissa looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  ‘Lucius, come here,’ she said breathlessly._

_He obeyed, coming closer until he could see the red, wrinkly little face.  If it had been anyone else’s baby, he would have said it was ugly--but it was his, so his throat closed and he felt his heart swell with love and protectiveness._

_‘Look at our son,’ Narcissa said in a soft, strangled little voice, fighting back her emotional, exhausted tears with an effort.  ‘Look at what we did.’_

_Lucius made an aborted move to touch him.  ‘Draco,’ he breathed, and the little infant seemed to stir, making a little whimper that went straight to his heart.  His lips wouldn’t quit trembling.  ‘May I?’_

_Narcissa smiled warmly and nodded, sniffling, lifting the babe toward him._

_As soon as Draco was in his arms, Lucius couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t crying anymore, even though he could feel Narcissa smiling at him, even though it wasn’t dignified.  He wasn’t thinking about pure-blood tradition and carrying on the family name, as he’d been when he and Narcissa were planning their family.  No, all he could think was how it couldn’t be possible that he had had a part in making something so tiny, so beautiful, so perfect._

_‘I’m your daddy,’ he wept quietly, so Draco wouldn’t waken.  ‘I love you more than anything in the world.  I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.  I’ll make everything perfect for you.  I promise.’_

_He had to sit and hand Draco back to Narcissa.  He felt like he might burst or collapse from all the emotion he was feeling.  He’d never felt so strongly--any emotion at all--in his life.  Even his vaunted control couldn’t handle it._

_‘I love him so much it hurts,’ he choked out, still crying, and he wondered if it would ever stop.  ‘I didn’t know it would feel like this.’_

_Narcissa just smiled tearfully, and reached out to take his hand.  They watched Draco sleep, content in this perfect moment not to think of anyone or anything else._

Hermione retreated, humbled and guilty for having viewed such a private moment.  She should have stayed out, never mind her curiosity.

She reviewed the rest quickly, and after she had determined that there were no traps, she bundled them together and dissolved the walls.  She was immediately blasted with green, and with Lucius’s worry--worry was deep, deep, velvety purple that seemed determined to wrap around her and scoop her up.  She waved the worry aside.

_These belong to you,_ she said gently, setting the bundle loose.   _Porter locked them away from you._

His joy when he recognised them was a nearly palpable thing, buffeting her around.  The memories, once set loose, began to drift back toward their appointed places, and Hermione could see that there was _some_ organisation in his mind.  It was like there were holes in the cloud of his mind, and each memory fit into one.  There were still a large number of empty holes, but she was satisfied to see how many had been filled.  A lot of the murk faded away, and for the most part, Lucius’s mind became a silver cloud.  It was much warmer, much more hospitable.

_Come on,_ she said, gently tugging his consciousness away from where he was reviewing the restored memories.   _You can take them out and look at them any time you wish, now.  I’m getting tired, though, and we need to search for any other traps or surprises he might have left us._

Lucius was getting tired, too, so he didn’t resist much, allowing her to rifle through his mind at a much faster pace than before.  She particularly focused on following any cold or dark patches she found.  They seemed to be made up of bad memories, but she kept searching anyway.  A few of them weren’t memories, but pain--he was currently feeling pain, from a few spots, at least some background pain, and she was more determined than ever to get him a full physical.

There were also some cracks--stress fractures, she would have called them if she’d been looking at a tooth or a bone.  These were undoubtedly the damage caused by repeated attacks, particularly the ones while he was suffering from a head injury, and she had to marvel at how strong Lucius was mentally.  The cracks were small, and never ran through anything vital, as though he’d been able to defend the most important parts of his mind despite lacking any training.  Every time she came to a crack, Hermione sealed it back together, observing the resulting relief and lightening in Lucius’s mind with satisfaction.

A lot of the tension he’d been carrying around was lifting as they worked, allowing her to notice the background thrum of fear that ran through everything.  That was a genuine feeling, though, not a result of tampering or damage, and it was something Lucius was going to have to deal with on his own.  Much as it pained her, she left it alone.

She was also surprised to find that the green light Lucius was constantly, unconsciously sending at her hadn’t dissipated in the slightest.  She’d been afraid that once she released his memories of Narcissa back to him, it would fade, at least a little.  If anything, it seemed stronger.

Hermione paused in her search when she found one particularly cold spot, hovering over the memory at the edge of her thoughts.

_Lucius was cold, and helpless…._

She was knocked back just as the image of a courtyard flooded her mind, the image yanked away almost immediately.

_Don’t!_

Lucius, she realised.  And, belatedly, she realised that _he_ had knocked her back--he had thrown up a wall between her and the memory.  Sickly, dark humiliation surrounded them, pulsing with Lucius’s self-loathing.

_Well done,_ she said neutrally.   _My apologies._

Remorse was not a colour or a light--it was a texture, an oozing, thick, cold liquid-y feeling, like slime dripping down her hands.

_You didn’t hurt me._

None of the feelings faded, and Lucius remained silent, so Hermione moved on without further comment, working under the yoke of Lucius’s emotions, still including the green light, undimmed and untouched by anything else.

She was just about ready to call it quits when she realised there was a…fold.  Clouds didn’t have folds.  Curiosity prompted her forward, feeling along the edges.  It was small, and the parts around it dealt with Lucius’s knowledge of magic.

This was surprisingly subtle for Porter--probably because it was relatively simple.  It was much easier to simply hide something from the rest of the mind than it was to construct memories wholesale, or lock away large chunks of real memories.  This was one little slip that could only contain one, or maybe two bits of knowledge at most.

Tentatively, she raised some shielding around her and the fold, to keep Lucius from any backlash that might occur, but she doubted there was a booby trap here.  She could still feel him worrying at the edge of the shield, so she quickly but carefully smoothed the fold out, simultaneously feeling a relaxation in the rest of Lucius’s mind, like a held breath finally let out.

Wandless magic, she realised, pleased.  Lucius couldn’t perform it anymore--because there was a block, put there by Porter when he was undoubtedly trying to get Lucius to stop harassing them with little wandless spells.  When he tried to cast the healing spell on her, it had fizzled out because he didn’t know how to get the magic past his skin anymore, out into the air, without a wand as a sort of transceiver.  Now he knew again--or would, as soon as she lowered the shield around it.  She immediately released the shield, letting him feel her satisfaction.

The humiliation and remorse he’d been toting around all but vanished, along with his worry, as he discovered what she had.  Fiercer joy than any she’d felt from him so far bore her up and crushed her against his consciousness, the little core of bright silver light that was Lucius.  The green light was so strong it was nearly suffocating, too, and Hermione struggled to get loose, or at least to maintain the boundaries of her own mind without hurting him.

_I knew you could do it!_ he thought wildly, elated.   _I knew you could fix me!  You’re amazing!  You’re the most wonderful witch who ever lived!_

His exultations continued despite her little nudges, so finally, she drew him back into her front room, taking on her fake human form and sending waves of calm at him, in a way that would make sense to him--calm was pale blue yet warm, a smooth, unruffled surface.  Slowly, the joy released her, settling back to normal levels.

The green light, however, was unstoppable.  It was his love for her--romantic love, which she could no longer pretend did not exist, because the proof was being beamed directly into her brain from his constantly, for as long as they were connected.

_I’m going to put you back in your mind, and then I’m going to release you from the spell,_ she said gently.

_Yes, all right.  But--Hermione?_ he said tentatively.

_Yes?_

Lucius’s gratitude felt the same as stepping out into one of the first days of spring--cool yet warm at the same time, bright and fresh and colourful.  It wasn’t just one colour, it was all the colours at once, and it enveloped her, putting her in mind of a giant hug.  It retreated after a moment.

_That seemed more effective than trying to tell you,_ he said somewhat sheepishly.   _And this way you know I mean it._

Hermione sent him a wave of friendly feeling--the mental version of a smile.   _I would have believed you out loud, too, but--thank you.  It was…a privilege, to feel it firsthand._

It was.  No one else in the world had probably ever felt it, direct from Lucius’s mind.

Gently, with little nudges, she scooted him safely back into the borders of his own mind, and carefully unlinked the two of them, shutting and locking her mental library doors.

It took her a moment to blink Lucius into focus.  He was having much the same trouble, if his rubbing his eyes was any indication.  She felt completely wrung out, but a glance at the time told her that she’d been in his mind for a longer consecutive amount of time than she had ever attempted before.

‘So much for lunch,’ she said hoarsely.  ‘It’s nearly dinner.  Draco will be home soon.’

The memory she shouldn’t have seen flashed across her mind.  She blinked it away.

‘How are you feeling?’

He smiled wearily.  ‘Exhausted.  You?’

‘Same.’  She stretched a little, stiff from sitting in the same position so long, but she was too tired to give it much effort.  ‘I think we’ll have to crawl to the dinner table,’ she half-joked.

‘I don’t even have the energy for that,’ he said flatly, laying his head back and closing his eyes.  ‘They’ll have to deliver it in here.’

‘Mmm, I like that idea….’

They fell silent for a while.  Hermione had nearly fallen asleep when he spoke again.

‘That was weird,’ he murmured.  ‘I didn’t know our minds looked like that.  I can’t stop seeing it.’

She struggled to rouse herself.  ‘They don’t, not really.  It’s more of a visual metaphor.  The human mind isn’t naturally designed for telepathy, so we have to create constructs to make it comprehensible.  Your mind appeared to me as just a big mess, before we started visualising so I could understand.  That’s how my mind would have appeared to you, as a big mess, before I developed my mental library.  It’s all just a metaphor that allows us to understand one another, and which allows me to keep my thoughts organised and protected.  If you keep working at it, you could eventually have a system like that, too.  You wouldn’t even have to keep working with the desk and papers--you seem to have a somewhat workable system of your own started already.’

He perked up a little, surprised.  ‘I do?’

‘Yes.  It’s all a bit formless, but everything has a designated spot anyway.  Like when we found the memories Porter had hidden--they went back into the places where they’d originally come from.  I would characterise it as “organised chaos,” in that it all seemed a bit bewildering to me, but _you_ know where everything is.  Which is as it should be anyway.  You’re really only lacking a shield around it all to protect you.’

‘Oh.’

Hermione lifted her head enough to see that he was smiling a bit dazedly, looking pleased.

He was in love with her.

She tried to blink the thought away, but it would not go.  She couldn’t look at Lucius without knowing, now, without it teasing in the background of her thoughts--he loved her.  It was a pressure in her chest, a constant urge to fling herself at him, a tickle on her tongue to blurt it out, to declare herself to him.

And she had to ignore it.

Her conversation with Kingsley had settled her mind on the subject of any _unfounded_ accusations of impropriety, but she couldn’t be certain that it would be enough if she and Lucius actually _did_ anything that might be considered untoward.  They were already walking a dangerously thin line as it was--and she _would not_ risk Lucius’s safety and sanity for a few kisses.  There was nothing she feared more than him being sent back to Azkaban, particularly after the close call he’d just had.

Then there was the fact that Lucius hadn’t seemed at all aware of the love-beams (for lack of a better term) he’d been sending her way from the moment their minds connected.  If he wasn’t aware that he loved her, a declaration might not be received very positively.  He needed to realise it on his own, first.

No, it was better to keep on as she had, all round.  The risks were too many and too great.

Draco woke them when he returned from work (they’d drifted off to sleep in their chairs), and had Tibby bring them their dinners where they sat.  He helped Hermione get home, since he claimed she was too tired to navigate the Floo properly, but he put Lucius to bed first, despite his mumbled protests that he wasn’t sleepy.

‘Did it go all right?’ Draco asked as soon as they arrived in her flat, but he kept steering her toward her bedroom.

‘Yes,’ she said around a yawn.  ‘I think he’ll be much better now.’

‘Good.  Good night, Hermione.’  He paused.  ‘And thank you.’

She waved him off and fell asleep before he was out of the room.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione was rather nervous when she presented herself at the headmistress’s office the next morning, but Minerva greeted her with tea and a smile, so she soon calmed.  Mostly, Minerva just seemed to want a chat, after reassuring her that they’d simply cancelled her classes while she was away, and inquiring after Hermione’s health.

‘I’m much better now,’ she’d said quickly, and Minerva smiled and moved on.

It was mostly true.  She still got a bit of a twinge when she twisted wrong, and it ached sometimes, but the wound was healing well.  She’d had a quick follow-up examination that morning before coming back to Hogwarts, and the mediwitch had been very pleased with her progress.

Toward the end of the conversation, though, Minerva turned serious.

‘I wanted to explain why it took so long for me, and the other professors as well, to arrive at the Ministry,’ she said soberly, setting her cup down.

Hermione blinked.  ‘I just assumed you had to take the time to make certain the students were under control.’

‘Well, there was that, too.’  She drew a slow breath.  ‘At first, though, there was confusion, because I wasn’t absolutely certain the Patronus message was genuine.  We briefly entertained the notion that it was a ruse to draw us away from Hogwarts.’

Hermione felt cold at the thought.  It very well could have been.  There _had_ to have been an ulterior motive behind the blatantly suicidal move of attacking the Ministry.  Even Voldemort had been hesitant to do that, so how a ragtag group of rogues had expected to take it over via open attack was beyond her.  Either they were all intensely stupid, or it was a distraction.

But the more pressing matter--

‘Why wouldn’t my Patronus be genuine?’ she wondered aloud.  ‘Is it even possible to fake a Patronus?  And how many people have otter Patronuses, anyway?  Not many, I wouldn’t think, so the chances of any of us being evil are fairly remote.’

Minerva pressed her lips together, looking distinctly uncomfortable.  ‘It wasn’t an otter,’ she said quietly.

It took a moment for that to sink in.  Hermione clutched at the armrests of her chair as the world seemed to tilt.  Patronuses sometimes changed after major life events, like a death or a trauma or…falling in love.  Like Tonks’s had changed to a werewolf after she fell in love with Lupin.

She had to remind herself to breathe.

Minerva still looked grim and uncomfortable when Hermione came back to herself.

‘Hermione,’ she began carefully.  ‘I know you’re an adult, and I don’t want to seem interfering or suspicious, but I have to ask if you’re sure you can handle this situation with Lucius Malfoy.  I have known him since he was a boy, and he’s always been a charming little snake--he seems perfectly harmless until he strikes.  I just don’t want you to find yourself in over your head after it’s too late.’

Hermione might have bristled if it had been anyone else, but Minerva had always seemed like a second mother to her, and her tone was so obviously concerned and caring that she couldn’t take it as anything other than genuine worry on her behalf, rather than simply spite toward Lucius.  Therefore, she gave careful consideration to her response, restraining herself from lashing out in defence of Lucius.

‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said with a fond smile.  ‘Really.  And I know it’s hard to believe--but I do truly believe that Lucius has changed.  It would have been difficult for him _not_ to, after all he’s been through.  I don’t think he would ever intentionally hurt me.’

Minerva shook her head.  ‘A leopard can’t change its spots.  I’m sorry to say, but I have known Lucius for a lot longer than you have.  I’ve seen him in action too many times.  He is more than capable of appearing perfectly innocent when he wishes, and this would not be the first time that he has pretended to follow along with the attitudes that are currently popular.  He did just that when Voldemort disappeared the first time--pretending he’d been under the Imperius Curse, and playing nice for five or six years until he got back the prestige and power he’d had before.  Only then did he start waving the pure-blood banner again, influencing people back in the direction he wanted.’  She paused.  ‘To be honest, I couldn’t care less if that’s what he’s doing again.  I just don’t want to see you hurt, if it turns out he’s only toying with your affections to appear politically acceptable.  Marrying a Muggle-born would go a long way toward restoring his public image,’ she added darkly.

Hermione had thought of that before.  It was one of the many possibilities she’d discarded when trying to justify Lucius’s obvious attachment to her.  She’d discarded it because, while he would need to win her over in private in order for such a scheme to work, he made an effort to appear detached from her where the wizarding public could see--the Christmas party came to mind.  Also, at his hearing, he’d followed her lead and referred to her as ‘Professor Granger,’ which did not imply a deeper connection.  Calling her ‘Hermione’ on the stand, in front of all those people, might have lent weight to the idea that he was merely using her, but instead, he’d referred to her by her professional title, maintaining the public appearance that they were no more than teacher and student.

Of course, all of that was before she’d touched his mind.  The green light of his love still shimmered and curled around her, having somehow taken up permanent residence in her mental library.  It almost seemed to have a life of its own.  She had to work not to smile as she felt its bolstering presence, giving her strength.

‘Yes, it would.  But Lucius hasn’t proposed anything of the sort.  My feelings for him aren’t necessarily welcome,’ she said, forcing a grim note into her voice.  It wasn’t technically a lie, because she was keeping her feelings for him to herself and had no idea how he would react if she told him.

The implication hit home, and Minerva sat back with a sympathetic expression.

‘Ah.  I see.’  She sucked her teeth for a moment, staring into space.  ‘He’s not giving you any trouble, then?’

Hermione shook her head quickly.  ‘No, he’s a consummate student.  The top of the class, in fact.’

That made Minerva smile--just a tiny flicker, but undeniably there.  ‘I will give Lucius that--he was always a bright, dedicated student.  Not like his son.  He could very easily have paid some of the other students to do his work, or expected to skate by on Abraxas’s reputation, but he never did.  He was almost always found in the library, hard at work--when he wasn’t on the Quidditch pitch, that is,’ she added with distinct amusement.

Hermione grinned.  She could very easily see that.  ‘He played, then?’

She wasn’t at all surprised.  Draco had to have got his Quidditch-craziness from somewhere, and Narcissa had looked just as bored as she when the conversation at the dinner table turned to Quidditch.

She also wasn’t surprised to hear that Lucius had been so dedicated to his studies, given how much supplemental reading he’d been doing for her class.  He definitely knew how to over-achieve.

It was also amusing to be reminded of Draco in his younger days.  Draco had been fairly dedicated, in the beginning, and while he remained second in their year for the entirety of their school careers, his inability to best her had seemed to take some of the joy out of learning for him, and after a while he’d just stopped trying.  Oh, he still took the second-best marks after her--he undoubtedly hadn’t wanted to be shamed any more than that--but he didn’t dedicate himself to his studies the way he had in their first two years, sometimes paying or bullying other students into writing his essays for him, and milking Lucius’s reputation for all it was worth.  By fifth year, he really only worked hard in Minerva’s class, since she was the only one unintimidated and unimpressed by the Malfoys’ power and wealth.  Then, of course, his final year had been rocky and horrible, and he didn’t like to be reminded that he’d probably only got such high marks because the school was in Death Eater hands at that time.

‘He was a Chaser,’ Minerva confirmed.  ‘And a damned good one, too.  If he’d been just a _little_ faster, he probably could have played professionally.  Personally, I think he was too worried about messing up his hair to fly to his full potential.’

That surprised a laugh out of Hermione.  ‘Oh, goodness.  That does sound like Lucius.’  A glance at the time had her sighing and out of her seat.  ‘Well, I’d best be off.  I have a class in fifteen minutes, and my room’s probably in quite a state.’

Minerva walked her out, kindly wishing her luck.  Hermione headed back, smiling and thanking the students she passed who cheerfully welcomed her back.

As expected, her classroom was exactly as it had been left--probably on Minerva’s orders--so she quickly put it to rights, cleaning up the scraps of paper and overturned, dried-up inkpots the students had left behind in their rush to leave.  A few chairs had been toppled, and one desk was cock-eyed, so she fixed those as well.

Lucius’s school things were still at his desk, too.  Even his cloak was still hanging off the back of the chair.  Hermione threw out his ink, since it was a dried-up mess, too, and carefully put the rest in his bag, stowing it and his cloak in her office for the time being.  She’d return it to him tonight so he could continue to work on whatever homework he hadn’t completed already.  She wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’d completed up to the end of the year, actually.

After all of this, she still had five minutes left before her first class would arrive.  She had time for a little experiment.  Chewing her lip anxiously, she wandlessly locked the classroom door and took out her wand, studying it.

She hadn’t had any need for her wand since the battle.  These days, she could cast most simple spells without it.  She’d touched it the day she woke in St Mungo’s and went to Lucius’s aid, but she hadn’t touched it in a quiet moment since then, at least not for more than transferring it from holster to nightstand, and nightstand to holster.  This was the first time she was really sitting and concentrating on it.

It felt…odd.  Hermione held it firmly and ran her other hand over it, frowning in concentration.  It still felt warm and welcoming in her hand, a willing, fiercely loyal partner, as it had always been.  But now, there was something else, too.

It was familiar, too, she realised, just not coming from her wand.  She’d felt it when she was in Lucius’s mind.  There, imprinted into her wand, was a faint shadow of Lucius’s love--he’d poured it into and through the wand, to heal her, to save her.

Hermione let out a shaky breath.  Only three minutes, and she wanted to see her new Patronus.  She would miss her otter, but she needed to know, so she could warn the others that in an emergency, it wouldn’t be an otter anymore, it would be…whatever was about to come out of her wand.

Summoning every bit of concentration she had, she forcibly ejected her confused emotions into a different compartment of her mind, bringing forth the happy feelings required to cast the Patronus.  The memories attached to them were less important, to the point that she didn’t even think about them anymore--it was just that it was usually easier for beginners to summon up that happy feelings if they were thinking about a good, strong memory.

In her case, she was practised enough that the feelings came first, and a memory flashed through her mind afterward.  Usually, it was her with her parents as a young child.  Not this time, and not, she recalled, when she had cast it on her way out of the castle.  No, this time it was her and Lucius in his library, just being together quietly.

She cast.  And stood there staring at the silver cobra coiled before her, hissing as it looked around for enemies.  Not seeing any, and not receiving a message, it stopped hissing, its hood folding, and looked at her briefly before dissipating.

She didn’t move until the students started knocking on the door.

Her mind was distracted for the rest of the day.  She couldn’t stop focusing on Lucius’s court-mandated empty desk, and the agitation she felt at memory of the cobra Patronus.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

On, off, on, off, on, off.

‘Father, stop that.’

On, off, on, off, on, off.

A sigh.  ‘Father!  For the _fiftieth time_ , stop it!  Our guests will be arriving soon, and I think they’d prefer not to have the lights flashing on and off while they’re trying to eat.’

Lucius stifled a delighted giggle as he waved a hand again, the candles flashing back on at his mental command: _Lumos_ .  He’d spent most of the day wandering around the house, locking and unlocking doors, levitating small objects, really just casting any little spell that came to mind for which he could find a target.  Draco had been less than amused when he returned home and was immediately hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx.

He just couldn’t help it, though.  He was so very, very ecstatic to be able to cast wandlessly again that he’d _had_ to let his magic loose in any way he could.  It sent a thrill through him every time it worked.  This morning, after Draco left, he’d been unable to restrain himself from jumping and letting out a whoop when he successfully levitated a quill on the first try.  He felt like a first year student again, overly excited about the simplest spells, but he couldn’t help that, either.  He’d been so long without any magic at all that each little spell was a wonderful gift that left him a bit awestruck.  The feeling would undoubtedly fade soon enough, so he felt no need to force it away just because it annoyed Draco.

He hadn’t even been upset about not being allowed to go to class today, although he had missed it, and he’d felt a little teensy bit guilty, since it felt a little like playing hooky, what with all the fun he was having.  It was supposed to be a punishment, after all, but here he was enjoying himself.

‘Father, why don’t you go upstairs and get ready?’ Draco suggested with obvious irritation.  ‘Unless, of course, you _want_ the Weasleys to see you in bare feet and shirtsleeves.’

‘I don’t care,’ he said cheerfully, looking around for something new to play with.

Draco glared at him.

‘Oh, fine,’ he conceded, pouting.  ‘Killjoy.’

He started up the stairs with a bounce in his step anyway.

‘And don’t get distracted by the candles again!’ Draco shouted after him.

When he came downstairs, Draco did a double-take, blinking at his robes in confusion.

‘Why are you wearing a badge proclaiming your love of vomit?’ he demanded shortly.

Lucius sniffed imperiously.  ‘No, not _spew_ , S-P-E-W.  It’s an acronym.’

And he took great satisfaction out of refusing to explain further or remove the pin, thoroughly enjoying Draco’s frustration.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Harry and Hermione were the first to arrive this time, much to her surprise.

‘I wonder what’s got into Mrs Weasley?’ she asked Draco in an undertone.

He shrugged a little, but she could see he was concerned, too.  Mrs Weasley was usually very punctual.  She turned to say something to Harry, only to find that he was staring at Lucius with his mouth hanging open.  Lucius looked very confused, and after a moment, he waved a hand in front of Harry’s face.  Harry blinked, coming back to himself.

‘Oh, erm.  Sorry,’ he said, reddening.  ‘Hi, Mr Malfoy.’

‘Hello,’ Lucius responded, bemused.  ‘Have you hit your head recently, Mr Potter?’

Harry turned a deeper shade of red.  ‘No, I haven’t.  I just got distracted, that’s all.’

Lucius hummed an acknowledgment, quirking a brow at Hermione as though asking for an explanation for her strange friends.  She shrugged, equally bewildered, and fortunately, that was when the Weasleys started arriving.  This time, Fleur and Bill were along, and there was an immediately obvious explanation for the Weasleys’ tardiness in the form of Fleur’s baby bump.  The air was soon filled with feminine squeals around Fleur and back-slapping for Bill.

‘She’s been hiding it until they were sure,’ Ron told them when he finally escaped from the excited throng.  ‘She’s due in late April or early May.  One good thing, though--Mum’s over Ginny moving out, now.  At this point, even _I_ might be able to get away with moving out, since she’s got a grandchild to look forward to.’

Hermione smirked, but inwardly cringed a bit.  She didn’t want to tell Ron, but she actually did feel a bit sorry for him.  As the last one still living at home, he’d been smothered by Mrs Weasley, to the point that they hardly saw him anymore outside of work (well, Harry saw him at Auror training, anyway) and the weekly dinners, and he was actually starting to _complain_ about having to eat his mother’s cooking, which had never happened before.

Then Ron did a double-take, his mouth dropping open, and Harry bounced on his toes, wringing his hands.

‘See?  I know, right?’

Hermione turned to see what he was talking about, since that made no sense to her.  Ron was staring at Lucius, who was politely extending his congratulations to the happy couple.  Then he reached forward to shake Bill’s hand, and she saw it--a small, circular flash on his robe as the pin reflected the light.

‘I thought he threw it away,’ she said blankly.

Lucius was _actually wearing_ the S.P.E.W. button she’d given him.  On his _dress robes_ .  Like he was proud of it.

Her boys looked at her wide-eyed.

‘You gave him that?’ Ron asked in a strangled voice.

She nodded faintly.  ‘He thanked his house elf, so as a joke, I gave him one of the old badges I still had in my closet….’

Ron’s brows rose.  ‘And you explained it to him, yet you’re still alive?  And he’s wearing it?’

She nodded again, thinking that both of those things were plainly true, since she was demonstrably still alive, and his wearing the button was the whole reason they were having this conversation.

Harry suddenly grinned.  ‘Marry him, Hermione.  He’s clearly the one.’

Ron choked on his own spit and went into a coughing fit.  Hermione felt the colour rise in her cheeks and said nothing, biting the inside of her lip so her grin wouldn’t escape.

She quite agreed with Harry.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Dinner was loud and jovial, and the high spirits didn’t lower even after dinner, the sitting room filling with loud, excited chatter on any subject under the sun.  Well, almost any.  Hermione found herself firmly on the male side of the room, as on the female side, every single witch was crowded around Fleur--even _Luna_ !  They were taking turns touching her stomach and swapping stories about pregnancies and myths they’d heard.  Mrs Weasley was particularly popular, as she had six separate firsthand pregnancies to talk about, one of them a set of twins, so the girls listened with awe as she related stories from them.  Even Ginny was enraptured, her eyes slightly misty with baby fever, just like the rest of them.

It wasn’t that Hermione wasn’t interested in having children.  Eventually, having a baby was something she’d very much like to do--perhaps only one, perhaps two.  Two had always been her ideal, before she’d seen real footage of a woman giving birth in a documentary, whereupon she’d decided that perhaps she’d better go through it once first, and then decide if she ever wanted to do it again.  Even once was a bit terrifying.  She’d never been a fan of pain.

Still, the subject grew wearisome after a while.  She didn’t see the need to beat the topic to death, particular since Fleur had around three more months left in her pregnancy, so there was plenty of time to spread the stories out some.  No need to discuss them _all_ in one night.  Hermione understood being excited, but privately thought they were going just a bit overboard.  She vowed not to let Mrs Weasley harangue _her_ for so long in one sitting, if and when she ever got pregnant.

In the meantime, the wizard side of the room was running the gamut of topics.  Even Lucius was caught up in the atmosphere, talking freely and animatedly with Bill and Arthur about…something.  It had to do with the Ministry and politics and a proposed law, but it had something to do with housing, so it was a bit out of her range of expertise--and interest.  Odd, for Lucius, so she hovered nearby and made an effort to skim the conversation, trying to understand what he was so passionate about.

She had just decided it was some kind of concession for wizards of limited means (rather amazing her that Lucius had continued to interest himself in the plight of those less fortunate than himself), when Draco touched her elbow, distracting her.

‘Hmm?’ she said, her brow wrinkling.

He looked around, wincing, before leaning close.  ‘What’s spew?’ he whispered.

She couldn’t help it--she barked out a laugh, temporarily drawing attention to them and causing lulls in the various conversations.  Draco looked pained, but she merely waved a hand, and they immediately went back to their own talk.  Only Lucius looked at her for longer, eyeing the two of them suspiciously, but her grin seemed to convince him that all was well, and he turned back to Arthur, picking up the thread again easily.

‘It’s not _spew_ ,’ she began.

‘I know, I know, it’s an acronym,’ Draco cut her off testily.  ‘An acronym for what?’

‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ she said, trying very hard not to laugh in his face again.

He stared at her for a moment.  ‘Very funny,’ he said flatly.

She allowed herself a tiny giggle.

‘I did want to thank you for something else, though,’ he added, frowning.  ‘Now I’m not sure I should.’

Hermione raised a brow at him.  ‘I’m sorry if it offends--’

He shook his head.  ‘Not that.  You fixed Father’s ability to cast wandless magic.’

‘Oh.’  She paused.  ‘And you were going to thank me before, but now you’re not?’

Draco shifted agitatedly.  ‘He’s being so irritating!  He’s like a kid with a new toy, he just won’t stop playing.  When I got home today, he hit me with a Jelly-Legs Jinx!’

She had to cover her mouth to stop the laughter that wanted to come out.

His lips quirked.  ‘Well.  That _was_ kind of funny, I guess.  I didn’t fall or get hurt or anything, and he giggled about it for a good ten minutes.  It was nice to see him enjoying himself.’  He grimaced.  ‘But then he kept turning the candles on and off--for over an _hour_ !  Oh, my gosh, I could have _strangled_ him!’

The laughter escaped anyway, muffled by her hand.  She had to bend a little to keep from falling over.

‘It’s not funny!  It’s _annoying_ !’ Draco protested.

She couldn’t stop grinning, wiping the tears from her face.  ‘Agree to disagree.  I think it’s hilarious.’

‘You wouldn’t, if he was doing it while _you_ were trying to read,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes, I would.  And I would just light my wand so he could keep playing with the candles,’ she said, still a bit breathless from laughing.

Draco heaved a sigh.

‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ she said, nudging his shoulder.  ‘The novelty will wear off soon enough.  Just let him play--as long as he’s not overdoing it, I don’t see what harm it could be.  Lucius deserves a little happiness for all his hard work, don’t you think?  And it may be annoying, but it’s not actually hurting anyone.’

He conceded that.  ‘The minute he knocks me over, though, he’s grounded,’ he said haughtily.

Hermione just smiled, wondering how Draco would ever enforce a ‘grounding,’ if he could even come up with such a thing on top of all the Ministry restrictions.  What was he going to do, lock Lucius in his room?  Highly doubtful.  Disallow him from casting spells?  Good luck!  Ban him from playing Monopoly for a while, more likely, and she would just teach Lucius a new game instead.  She still had Battleship, Guess Who?, Risk, The Game of Life, and Candy Land.  He’d _love_ Risk, she thought, and her smile widened.


	22. Popular Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius has his physical and sees the Star Wars trilogy. Meanwhile, he grapples with his newfound feelings for Hermione and how to win her affections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the long...long...LONG delay between chapters. Apparently, February is not a good month for me in real life. But yaaaay brand new chapter! See, the other reason this took so long to get to you is because it's so long. I felt it was important to cover all of this stuff. Plus, Star Wars, so that took a while to get it all down. Hopefully, that bit will live up to expectations. I'm sorry if parts of Star Wars are out of order.
> 
> Oh! And if you haven't seen Star Wars: SPOILERS!! And mild spoilers for Peter Pan, if you've been living under a rock.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and commenting, and I hope you enjoy! :)

Lucius kicked his heels against the medical bed, blowing out a slow sigh.  He had no idea why they insisted on making these beds taller than a person’s legs were long (when sitting, anyway).  It made him feel like a little boy waiting for his vaccination potions, which was not a feeling he enjoyed.  It also didn’t help that they’d made him change into a hospital gown  _ before _ leaving him to wait in an examination room, and he felt unbearably exposed, and more than a little chilly.  His toenails looked purple and he had goosebumps.

‘Why do they make appointment times and then make you wait for an hour when you arrive on time?’ he asked testily.

‘It hasn’t been an hour,’ Draco huffed, rolling his eyes.  ‘It’s been forty-three minutes.’

He was leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring at the clock.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Lucius.  ‘You would know.’

Draco had insisted on coming along to St Mungo’s when he learned Hermione was going.  Technically, neither of them needed to come--Lucius had legally obtained the pass, which had been approved immediately since it was for medical purposes anyway, so he was allowed to go alone.  Draco  _ claimed _ he was going to make sure Lucius would actually go to St Mungo’s and actually attend the appointment, but he was certain Draco was regretting that decision now.

_ Hermione _ had decided to come along first, because she said he might need support.  Lucius’s ego had protested mildly, but the rest of him was glad of any excuse to have her around and cheerfully told his ego to stuff it.

Of the two of them, Hermione’s company was much preferable, and not just for the obvious reasons.  Mostly, it was because Hermione had been making conversation for most of the forty-three minutes, asking him questions about his housing proposal and talking about the progress she and Draco had made on the Wizarding Studies project.  Draco, on the other hand, had been sulking and staring at the clock.  He hated hospitals, which is why he shouldn’t have come, but when Lucius said so, he continued to insist that he couldn’t be sure Lucius would go to the appointment if he didn’t.  He seemed convinced that Lucius and Hermione required a chaperone to go to an appointment with a healer.

‘I think they just always get behind,’ Hermione said, still shaking her head at Draco.  ‘They schedule a certain number of appointments, and most of them take longer than the time allotted.  And it  _ is _ the end of the day.’

Lucius conceded that with a grimace.  He’d tried to get a morning appointment, but they were all booked up, and he hadn’t wanted to wait a month to get this stupid physical out of the way.  He didn’t really want to be here at all, but he supposed that agreeing to the physical was the best way he could make it up to Hermione for refusing to see a mind healer.

He had to bite down a smile at the mere thought of the experience of touching Hermione’s mind.  Her mind was positively luminous, and she was a beacon of warm golden light.  He had been tempted to forsake his physical body and take up residence in her cosy, welcoming library forever.  It felt like he belonged there, and he had never felt so whole as when Hermione wrapped herself around him, blanketing him in her affection.

The best part was that he felt so much better now--even setting aside his restored ability to cast wandless magic.  It was like a months-long headache he hadn’t even realised he had was gone; it was so much easier to think, now, and to get out of bed in the mornings, since he no longer felt crushed by the weight he’d been unknowingly carrying.  Just breathing was easier.

There were downsides, too, of course, though they were very few.  Now that his head was so clear, the fear he always felt during his every waking moment was much more noticeable.  At random moments, it overtook him, setting his heart to pounding and making his breath come short until he could regain control of himself and push it back again.  It was worse when other people were around--except for Hermione, naturally.  When she was nearby, it receded until it was nearly nonexistent--and when she touched him, even just to pat his hand, it vanished as though it had never been.

Not a downside, but an unexpected realisation for him had been that the remorse and altered thoughts toward Muggles and Weasleys had  _ not _ been a result of the damage to his mind, since they hadn’t gone away once the damage was mended.  When Hermione insisted he needed a mind healer, he’d half expected to be back to his old snobbery and arrogance the moment she left his mind.  Fortunately, that hadn’t happened, and he was still himself--his new self, that is.

‘I’m going to see what’s taking so long,’ Draco huffed, and left the room.

Hermione raised a brow when the door slammed behind him.

‘He hates hospitals,’ Lucius explained, wincing.  ‘Ever since he was little.’

‘He should have stayed home, then,’ she said, snorting.

‘That’s what I said, but he doesn’t listen.’

‘To you, or to anyone?’

Lucius tilted his head, considering.  ‘To me, I suppose.’

She sighed.  ‘Are you two always going to be butting heads?  I thought you’d made a start on talking things out.’

He smiled.  ‘Oh, we have, and we’ve talked some more since that day, but I think we’re too alike to ever  _ really _ get along.  I’ll be happy if we can just avoid any really serious fights that result in him pretending I don’t exist in the future.’

She chuckled.  ‘Fair enough.’

A few more minutes passed.  Hermione leaned forward, squinting at an informational poster, and Lucius watched her contentedly.  He’d had time to assimilate, now, and it made perfect sense to him that he was in love with her, after he’d given it five minutes of thought.  She was the kindest, smartest, most capable, most generous person he’d ever known, and she’d decided to bestow her friendship on  _ him _ , of all people, even knowing all the things he’d done, even after he’d personally victimised her and the people she cared about.  She’d forgiven him and helped him in more ways than he could count.  It seemed inevitable, really, that he should have fallen in love with her.  It had been coming from the moment she showed up with a pot pie and a little courtesy and concern.  The only thing that amazed him now was how long it had taken him to realise it.

This was one of the few downsides, however.  With no haze to blur his thoughts, he found it hard to hide his feelings for her.  More than once, he’d caught himself staring at her dreamily and had to force his thoughts to mentally reciting Muggle traffic laws to distract himself.

And he  _ had _ to hide it from her--at least for now.  He was a Malfoy, after all.  It wouldn’t do to be sitting at lunch with her and blurt, ‘I love you, marry me?’  He needed to plan.  The setting, the timing, the mood--all of it had to be perfect, to sweep her off her feet so that the only possible response to ‘Will you marry me?’ would be ‘Yes.’

‘Ah, I’m sorry about the wait, Mr Malfoy,’ the mediwizard said as he barged in, startling Lucius into jumping, Draco on his tail.  ‘We’re rather busy around here this morning.  It seems a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product is fooling parents a little  _ too _ well….  Anyway, I’m Healer Kipling, you may call me Kipling, Healer Kipling, or Kipper.’

Lucius rubbed his knees anxiously, trying not to sneer to cover his discomfort.  Before they left the manor, Hermione had told him not to sneer today, at least not here, although she said she understood it was his defence mechanism.

‘It might make the healer take against you right away,’ she’d said reasonably, ‘and you don’t want the person responsible for your health to have an attitude against you.’

This made sense to Lucius, so he did his best to control his expression.

Kipling smiled.  ‘I believe in a balanced approach, so I hope you don’t mind if I use a few Muggle techniques to begin with.  Let’s get started, shall we?  Open your mouth, please.’

Lucius obeyed that and every other command he received.  He stuck out his tongue, looked at the ceiling with only his eyes, held his breath, and did every other silly thing Kipling could think of, while Kipling listened to his chest or rubbed under his jaw and ears or looked at his eyeballs or did some other thing Lucius could only guess at the purpose of.  After that, Kipling got out his wand, and he was poked and prodded and scanned and tutted over for more than an hour, mostly because Kipling’s scans involved his wand, naturally, and he couldn’t help his instinctive flinch, which messed up the precise medical spellwork being performed.  Finally, Hermione gripped his shoulder and he was able to stare down Kipling’s wand without moving, though every muscle remained tensed, ready for evasive manoeuvres if necessary.

‘There we are,’ Kipling said cheerfully.  ‘Much better.  Thank you.’

He pointed his wand at a blank parchment, where writing began to appear.  All three of them craned their necks to peer at it until Kipling stood in front of it, looking amused.

‘I’ll read it to you, shall I?’ he said when it had finished recording.  ‘Or at least the most important bits.  I’ll make a copy for you to take home if you like.’

‘I would like,’ Lucius said anxiously, and Hermione’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly.

‘All right, here we are.’  Kipling squinted at the sheet, humming to himself tunelessly for a moment.  ‘Okay.  So, it looks like you’re going to need a few corrective potions, Mr Malfoy.  Your arm was broken several times, yes?  It looks as though it was healed incorrectly, so you’ll need a potion to repair the damage.  If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to remove the bone and give you some Skele-grow instead.  I’d much prefer to go this route, though, as I think it’s better for everyone to have their original bones when they can, so we’ll try the corrective potion first.’

Draco made a face at the mention of Skele-grow.  Lucius shared the sentiment.

‘Fine by me,’ he agreed quickly.

‘Your leg has a similar problem, but we’ll take care of that the same way, if we can.  It’s not as bad off as your arm, so I don’t think it should be difficult.  Your hip, however….’  Kipling clucked his tongue.  ‘It was broken, too?  A hairline fracture, it looks like.  It wouldn’t be anything serious, except that it seems to be resisting healing at all, probably due to your low core body temperature.’

‘My what?’ Lucius interrupted, bewildered.

‘Your core body temperature,’ Kipling said calmly.  ‘Most full-blooded humans--that is, those without any giant or goblin blood, and not werewolves or other alternate humanoid forms--naturally hover at around 37 degrees, although there are some for whom it is normal to be a little colder.  According to the baseline statistics we have in your files, however, 37 degrees is normal for you.  My scans show that your body temperature is vacillating between 36 and 35 degrees, generally remaining on the low end.  My scans can’t show the cause, however.  Would you happen to know if there’s any  _ reason _ for your body temperature to be so low, or have I perhaps confused cause and effect--’

‘I do know.’  He swallowed with some difficulty.  ‘I was…repeatedly subjected to Cooling Charms at a time when I was unable to defend myself,’ he admitted quietly.  ‘I would assume that that is the cause.’

He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him and didn’t dare look at her.  Her hand didn’t leave his shoulder.

Kipling looked sympathetic.  ‘Ah.  That would do it.  Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do to correct it, in that case.  At least nothing permanent, that is.  I would recommend a treatment regimen that might help, however.  Particularly in the wintertime.  If you take a Pepper-up Potion every morning, and as needed, the artificial warmth should help boost your body temperature for most of the day.  I can’t recommend taking it too close to bed, or before bed, because then you’ll be up all night, and a proper amount of rest is also essential.  Dress warmly, and avoid staying outside in the cold for too long at a time.’

Draco shot him a  _ very _ pointed look.  Lucius pretended not to see it.

‘I would also recommend hot beverages, so if you’re a coffee addict, you have an excuse to indulge,’ Kipling said with a wink.

‘And that’s it?’ Hermione asked, an edge of disgust in her tone despite her attempts to modulate it.  ‘You’re saying he’s just going to have to live with being hypothermic for the rest of his life.’

Kipling sighed a little.  ‘Unfortunately, yes.  Blankets, warm clothes, hot beverages, Pepper-up in the mornings, and staying inside near a heat source are all I can really recommend at this point.  Spell damage to the core body temperature is generally reversible,  _ except _ when it is caused by too many Cooling Charms cast directly on the body, but such cases are so rare that no real research is being done to find a cure.’

Lucius looked up and saw that Hermione had set her jaw, a familiar look of stubborn determination on her beautiful face.  He would wager that research on that problem would start sometime very soon.

‘However, I  _ can _ prescribe a strong healing potion to nudge that hip along,’ Kipling went on, getting back on topic.  ‘The more of these little breaks and bothers we take care of, the more likely it is that your body will be able to help keep  _ itself _ warm, since its, uh, “attention” won’t be divided anymore.’

Hermione was nodding along in agreement with that, so Lucius assumed Kipling knew what he was talking about.

‘You also have some badly healed soft tissue damage in several different spots, but most especially in your neck.  I imagine you’ve been having some problems with that, given the severity?’

He nodded shortly.

‘I’ll prescribe a potion for that, too.  You’ll have to take the potion for your hip and the corrective potions for the badly healed bones for eight weeks, but the soft tissue damage is a little more resistant, so you’ll need to take that potion twice a day for twelve weeks.  I’d like to see you for a follow-up after that, just to check that the potions all did their jobs.’

‘But other than those issues, he’s all right?’ Draco put in anxiously.

Kipling scratched his balding head.  ‘Oh, yes, other than those things and the damage to his body temperature, he’s quite healthy.  It looks as though you’re kept well fed and well looked after, Mr Malfoy, so if you take your potions, you should be nearly right as rain in no time.’

They thanked him, and Draco followed him out to collect the potions Lucius would need.  He practically fled behind the screen in the corner and got dressed in his own,  _ much warmer _ clothes again.  Hermione didn’t even look amused when he emerged fully clothed, just sympathetic.

Once Draco returned, they walked down to St Mungo’s large entrance hall, watching people Floo or Apparate in and out while Lucius counted the potions.  His nose wrinkled as he did the math.

‘ _ Nine _ potions every morning?  That’s ten potions a day!  Eleven if I have to take a second Pepper-up.  My tongue is going to go on strike,’ he very nearly whined.

Hermione shrugged.  ‘I have to take ten potions a day for my injury.  Granted, they’re spread out throughout the day, rather than taken all at once, but still.  Actually, taking almost all of them in the morning and getting them over with sounds good to me.  I think you’ll live.’

Lucius stared.  ‘ _ You _ have to take ten potions a day?  For how long?’

He hadn’t realised the extent of the treatment needed for her injury, since he’d never been on the receiving end of Dolohov’s curse.

‘Two months.  I’ll be better in March.  I’ve done it before, it’s really not a huge problem.  Anyway, my point is that you’ll survive it with most of your taste buds intact,’ she added, amused.

He harrumphed.  ‘We’ll see.’

She merely smiled.  ‘So what now?’

‘Now we go home,’ Draco put in.

‘Why?’ she asked innocently.  ‘Lucius’s pass doesn’t expire until midnight.  I think he deserves a treat for behaving at the doctor’s, don’t you?’

Lucius grinned, and Draco seemed to lighten up for the first time all afternoon, his expression easing.

‘Well.  I suppose.  He’s a bit too old for a lolly, so I suppose dinner out will have to do,’ he said lightly.

‘That’s the spirit,’ Hermione said cheerfully.  ‘Now, where should we go?’

They bickered good-naturedly for a while, but when Lucius interjected that he’d really missed Amortentia (the restaurant), they immediately accepted that and headed toward an Apparition point.

Amortentia (the restaurant) was a high-end establishment, but not so high-end that their semi-casual robes weren’t permitted.  Still, it seemed to dazzle Hermione a bit, and he enjoyed her curiosity.

She caught him watching her and blushed.  ‘The only wizarding restaurants I’ve ever been in are the Hog’s Head, the Three Broomsticks, and the Leaky Cauldron,’ she admitted.  ‘This is really quite fascinating.’

Lucius looked around for a moment.  It was no different than any other wizard establishment to him, so it was hard to see what was so fascinating from her point of view.

‘Well, I suppose it is, compared to those three…restaurants,’ he conceded anyway, although he hesitated to call them restaurants, as the food was barely edible, in his opinion.  Pubs that happened to serve food, really, although if one were starving and desperate….

She smiled at his polite tone, as though she knew what he was  _ really _ thinking (which, he reflected, was entirely possible), and turned to listen with great interest as Draco began relating the story of his own first visit to Amortentia, for his eighth birthday.

The meal passed much too quickly for Lucius’s liking.  Draco and Hermione were both lively and cheerful, sharing stories that Lucius mostly wasn’t familiar with, although he’d been there for a few of Draco’s, and corrected some of his wilder embellishments with patient amusement.  He offered up a story of his own to rapt attention from both of them, and wished briefly that he had more memories of his childhood and youth left to choose from.

He did note that they got some stares from about half of their fellow patrons.  Some of them were just curious, while some were glaring daggers at Lucius.  He dismissed them easily, but it was harder to brush off the few who were glaring at  _ Hermione _ \--those people made him bristle, and he glared back at them ferociously.  Once they noticed his attention, they inevitably paled and turned quickly to their food.  He settled down with a satisfied sniff.  Undoubtedly, those diners who disliked Hermione were bigots of the sort he’d been not too long ago, offended that a Muggle-born would dare to enter ‘their’ territory.  He hated them all the more because he’d once been one of them.

‘Are you all right?’ Hermione asked softly, touching his wrist.

He smiled.  ‘Perfectly.’

She glanced over her shoulder at the pale and quivering wizards and witches who were now staring intently at their plates.  ‘Were they bothering you?’

‘ _ Were _ is the operative word,’ Lucius said haughtily.  ‘Now they don’t exist to me.’

She went through several expressions before settling on a smile and a sigh, shaking her head slightly.

Otherwise, they passed a lovely evening, and headed home.  To Lucius’s delight, Hermione accepted his offer of some tea and cakes, settling down beside him on the sofa in the sitting room.  With the intimate fire and quiet atmosphere, it would probably have been an opportune moment to confess his feelings, if not for Draco, who parked himself in an armchair and refused to leave no matter how many hints Lucius dropped.

Finally, Hermione took one of his hints for herself, claiming she was tired.  After she was gone, Lucius returned to the sitting room and glared at Draco.

‘Why did you do that?’ he demanded sharply.  ‘I was going to--’

‘I  _ know _ what you were going to do,’ Draco said, frowning.

Lucius blinked.  ‘You do?’

‘You were going to ask Hermione to marry you.’

Another blink.  ‘How do--?’

Draco snorted.  ‘I know you too well.  You moon over her every time you see her.  But I called it first!’ he insisted, pouting.  ‘I was planning to ask Ginny to marry me  _ way _ before you decided to ask Hermione to marry  _ you _ , so you can’t ask first!  It will ruin the surprise with Ginny!’

‘Oh.’  He considered that.  ‘All right, I suppose I can wait,’ he agreed, sighing.

‘It’s only fair.’

He looked around thoughtfully.  ‘I really need to plan better than this anyway.  She’s more comfortable in the library.  And I don’t even have a ring yet.’

Draco shook his head.  ‘You don’t need one.  Hermione says diamond rings are supporting…um.  Well, I wasn’t exactly listening, but she says they’re bad.  People get killed, or something.  I got a whole big lecture when I showed her the ring I picked out for Ginny.’

Lucius shrugged.  ‘Then I’ll get her a ring without a diamond in it.’  His eyes unfocused for a moment as he mentally reviewed their heirloom collection.  ‘We might already have one without a diamond….’

He stared, nearly tipping his teacup and only correcting a second before he would have got a lapful.  ‘You’re going to give her one of the rings from our vaults?’ he said, shocked.  ‘Isn’t that….  Don’t you think that’s a bad idea?  I mean, they are  _ Malfoy _ family heirlooms.’

Lucius frowned.  ‘If you hadn’t noticed,  _ I’m _ a Malfoy.  If she dislikes the ring because of the family attachment, she’d likely say no even if I purchased her a new ring anyway.’

Draco paled.  It took a moment for him to understand why.

‘Oh.  Draco…Ginny is different,’ he said quickly.  ‘I know you’re a Malfoy, too, but she doesn’t seem to see you that way.  She just…thinks of you as Draco.’

His son did not appear to be comforted.  ‘I’m going to bed,’ he said hoarsely, setting his cup down.  ‘Good night, Father.’

‘Good night.’

Lucius winced when Draco was gone, knowing he’d made a mess of that.  Hopefully, Draco would sleep on it and be over it in the morning.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The problem, Lucius reflected, with promising to wait was that one had time to think things through, and therefore one began to lose one’s nerve as one realised all of the many reasons the object of his affections had to say no.  In the exhilaration of realising and accepting that he loved her and wanted to marry her, Lucius had quite conveniently overlooked many factors.  He found himself perversely grateful that Draco had refused to budge that night, preventing him from making a fool of himself.

There was his status as a convicted Death Eater--the end of his probation wouldn’t suddenly mean that the world forgot about all the things he’d done.  It wasn’t exactly fair of him to ask her to spend her life with him when it was likely that he’d be the subject of a great deal of (well-deserved) hatred and spite for the remainder of his life.  He didn’t want any of that to extend to her, simply for agreeing to marry him.  He felt selfish for even thinking it.

Then there was the age difference.  While twenty-five years was fairly commonplace in wizarding society, thanks to their extended lifespans, and it didn’t even make Lucius blink, he hadn’t considered the fact that Hermione had been raised in the Muggle world, where twenty-five-year age gaps between spouses were bound to raise eyebrows and draw comments.  Now that he’d stopped to consider it, though, it was possible that she would be disgusted by a marriage proposal from someone who was old enough to be her father--had, in fact, fathered one of her peers.  Unless, of course, she didn’t think of him that way, which brought him to the factor that was bothering him the most.

First and foremost, he’d overlooked how  _ Hermione _ felt, which was rather important.  When they had been in each other’s minds, he’d felt only the affection one might expect toward a close friend.  Any romantic feeling or passion or deeper love had been conspicuously absent, which more than likely meant that his feelings were unrequited.  Not that he didn’t think Hermione was talented enough to hide those things from him if she  _ did _ feel them, but why would she?  He couldn’t think of any reasons, as depressed as that made him.

However, he did have rebuttals, weak as they were.  For the first point, his convicted Death Eater status might be a problem for her even if they remained friends, although obviously it would be more intense if she were to become his wife (a chill ran down his spine just thinking the words).  It hadn’t seemed to bother her so far, though, and her own status as a war hero would protect her to a certain extent.  As he’d seen at the restaurant, there were still a few bigots in the world to harass and annoy Hermione, but he’d also realised that his regard for her could protect her from them, at least a little.  He was Lucius Malfoy, after all--were the anti-Muggle factions really going to stand up to him just to make Hermione’s life miserable?  He doubted it.  The most powerful bigots had become Death Eaters, like him, and they were all either dead or in Azkaban.  The rest were cowards who were brave enough to glare in a restaurant, but no more than that.  He could easily handle them, and make Hermione’s life just a little less stressed.

The answer to the second two points was obvious: get her to fall in love with him.  That was where the thought process stalled, however.  He knew how to court in the traditional pure-blood fashion (naturally).  He knew several Muggle courtship rituals, now.  He’d seen how Draco approached Ginny, which was evidently the modern approach--talk, go to lunch, and snog.  He discarded all of them as unworthy, and unusable.

Hermione wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met.  He didn’t think she would be won over by flowers, and gifts of baubles and furs, and pretty promises.  She  _ definitely _ wouldn’t be won over by the traditional pure-blood promise that he wouldn’t hold her lack of a dowry against her, or the Muggle promise that they could have what they called a ‘prenuptial agreement.’  Neither was very romantic at all, and he felt annoyed and disgusted just thinking about them.

That left Lucius at somewhat of an impasse.  He had no idea what  _ would _ win her over.  He’d won her friendship, but he really had no idea how.  Mostly, it just seemed like kindness on her part, rather than any worthiness on his part.  He supposed he had a clever turn of phrase every now and then that either impressed her or made her laugh.  They talked on every subject they could think of, and she always seemed engaged by what he had to say.  Those were all well and good, but if they hadn’t made her fall in love with him by now, he somehow doubted they would do the trick anytime soon.

It didn’t help that a large part of him wanted to simply fall on his knees and beg--beg her to love him, promise her everything her heart could desire that Galleons could buy, promise to do whatever she wished for the rest of eternity if only she would agree to look on his suit kindly.  Lucius still had his pride, so he wasn’t willing to go that route.  At least not yet.

‘Father, you’re not wearing that ridiculous joke badge again, are you?’

Lucius roused himself from his thoughts with an effort and smirked at Draco.  ‘It’s not a joke, and yes, I am.’

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘Fine.  Whatever.   _ I _ am going to wait in the entrance hall, you may join me if you wish, Frankenstein.’

He supposed this jab was because he had spent most of the day staring into space, thinking hard about how to make Hermione fall in love with him.  Draco had been annoyed by the lack of conversation, probably.

‘Frankenstein was the scientist,’ Lucius said, sniffing disdainfully as he trailed after Draco.  ‘The monster was just the monster, or the creature.’

Draco sighed, looking upward for a moment.  ‘I’m going to ban Hermione from lending you any more books.’

‘You’re welcome to try,’ he shot back gleefully.  ‘She’s supposed to be bringing me  _ Peter Pan _ tonight.  I fully intend to root for the pirates.’

‘They lose.’

‘Spoilsport.’

Molly and Arthur arrived first again, undistracted by any breaking news, and Bill and Fleur had evidently decided to start joining in the weekly dinners--at least part of the time, anyway--because they arrived immediately after.  Neville and Lovegood broke the pattern of Weasleys, and Lucius nearly did a double-take when they removed their cloaks, a slow smile spreading over his face.

‘Welcome back, Neville, Miss Lovegood,’ he said with more sincerity than he’d ever managed before.  ‘I trust you’ve been well?’

Crazy girl hummed in response and wandered off after smiling and touching his elbow, which was weird, but he thought perhaps he was slowly getting used to her, because he shook it off a lot faster than he had in the past.

‘Very well, thank you, Mr Malfoy,’ Neville said, his cheeks pink and his smile shy.  He was very definitely happy about something.

‘Lucius, if you please,’ he corrected.  ‘I think it’s been quite long enough.  I get tired of being “Mr Malfoyed” all the time.’

Neville’s eyes widened.  ‘Yes, Mr--uh, I mean, okay.  Sure, Lucius.’

He scurried off shortly after, leaving Lucius free to notice the twins’ arrival.  They, too, were of interest after they removed their cloaks.  He nodded to them cautiously, and they replied with grins and thumbs up before (thankfully) moving in the opposite direction.  Draco looked quite bewildered by it all.

Percy arrived with a blissful smile on his face, but he didn’t seem inclined to share just yet.  Lucius thought he already knew what had the young man in such a stupor, if everything had gone according to plan, and so he was indulgent about Percy’s slow responses, which didn’t always match the question posed.

It wasn’t long after that Ron, Ginny, Hermione and Potter arrived, Hermione bearing a food container again.  Ron, Ginny and Potter took one look at his badge and grinned, removing their cloaks to show that they, too, were wearing their S.P.E.W. badges, as had the twins, Neville, and Lovegood.

Hermione looked at them, looked again, and burst out laughing.

Draco immediately skidded over.  ‘What is going on?  What are these stupid things, and why does everyone else have one and I don’t?’

‘I told you,’ Hermione gasped between giggles.  ‘It’s the Society…the Society for….’

‘The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare,’ Potter said, grinning quite wickedly.

She waved a hand.  ‘Yeah, that.’

Draco pouted.  ‘Well, I didn’t know you were  _ serious _ !  Why don’t I get to have one?  I let my house elves have the day off!’

Ginny was laughing openly at him, while Lucius tried to follow Harry and Ron’s example and suppress his smile, although none of them were having much success.

Hermione calmed with an effort, still very red.  ‘I can get you one next time.  In fact, it looks like I’d better get one out for myself, too.  It doesn’t look very good for the founder of the society to neglect to wear her badge,’ she added lightly.

That satisfied Draco, and he led them into the sitting room with a minimum of grumbling.

There was a twinkle in Hermione’s eye that Lucius had never seen before, and she nudged his shoulder on the way to the sitting room, offering him one of her new warm smiles.  He basked in it so hard he nearly walked into the doorframe.

‘Be careful!’ Hermione half-scolded, half-giggled.

He wasn’t even embarrassed.  ‘I’ll try,’ he said serenely.

Dinner started off smoothly, but about halfway through, it became a rowdy Weasley-style party again when Percy finally announced his big news--he had been promoted at work.  There was immediate whooping and backslapping and teasing, but for some reason, Hermione looked at Lucius, and he tried to look surprised.  He wasn’t certain whether she bought it or not, but she did finally look away, offering Percy her congratulations.

‘Thank you, Hermione,’ he said cheerfully.  ‘The best part is my new co-worker.  Her name is Audrey, and she’s….’  He blushed.  ‘She’s quite capable.’

A lot of knowing looks were exchanged, but for once, even the twins abstained from teasing Percy about his new crush, instead focusing their efforts on teasing him about budget reports.

The rowdiness only increased, so eventually, Lucius and Hermione made eye contact across the room and quietly slipped away from their respective groups, retreating to the library for some peace and quiet and sane company.  Hermione had brought  _ Peter Pan _ , so he returned  _ Frankenstein _ .

‘I quite enjoyed it,’ he said brightly.  ‘And the references make so much more sense now.  Although I hope this has less horror in it.’

She shrugged.  ‘You’re probably familiar with it through cultural osmosis anyway.’

Lucius blinked.  ‘Cultural what?’

She smiled.  ‘Osmosis.  I’ll explain what  _ that _ means another time, but “cultural osmosis” means you’ve picked up bits and pieces from popular stories without ever reading them or seeing them yourself, because parts have become common knowledge.  It’s sort of like how you and Draco both knew that Frankenstein’s monster was a zombie-like creature made up of parts from different dead bodies, reanimated, but you hadn’t actually read it yet.  You had a vague idea because it’s become common knowledge over the years--even, to a limited extent, to wizards.’

He considered that, frowning.  ‘But parts of what I thought I knew about Frankenstein’s monster were wrong.’

‘Well, that’s probably because of the various adaptations,’ she said, shrugging.  ‘Muggles have made a lot of films and stories and cartoons about Frankenstein’s monster, so they’ve changed a lot of the details or interpreted things differently, so some of that bled into the idea, replacing the original concept.  You’ll see more of that with  _ Peter Pan _ \--you already know about Peter, and Wendy, and Captain Hook, right?’

Lucius tilted his head.  ‘In the sense that I am aware they are characters that exist.’  He paused.  ‘And Peter can fly,’ he added with a touch of excitement and wistfulness.

He hadn’t flown in ages--didn’t dare, in case there was an arbitrary distance above the manor where the wards ended.

Hermione grinned.  ‘Yes, exactly.  You picked that up through cultural osmosis--from hearing other people discuss it or reading references to it elsewhere, without even realising it.’

‘Oh,’ he said brightly, pleased with this new knowledge.  Then another thought occurred, making him frown.  ‘Draco says Captain Hook and the pirates  _ lose _ .’

She shook her head.  ‘I’m going to hit him, I think.  Way to spoil it.’

His frown deepened.  ‘So they  _ do _ lose?  I wanted the pirates to win.’

That made Hermione giggle.  ‘Why did you want them to win?  Pirates are evil and nasty.’

‘Well, they’re pirates,’ he said, because obviously the pirates should win.  ‘Pirates may be in dire need of an education on hygiene, but they also know how to swashbuckle.  That alone means they should win.’

She giggled again, delighted.  ‘Sorry.  Captain Hook and his crew are the villains, and the heroes win this time around.’

Lucius scowled.  ‘Having a hook for a hand automatically means he should win,’ he grumbled, ‘if only for style points.’

‘Well, I think you’ll only end up wishing he’d win even more, once you start reading,’ she said, grinning and patting his hand.  ‘Just try not to be too heartbroken when he doesn’t.’

He harrumphed, but couldn’t prevent a smile from blossoming.  The subject changed, mostly because Lucius wanted to know what ‘osmosis’ meant when it wasn’t hooked up with ‘cultural,’ and Hermione obligingly explained, and the conversation flowed from there.  They were deep in discussion about the long-term environmental effects of carbon emissions when Draco poked his head in the room.

‘You two do realise it’s after two in the morning and everyone else has gone home?’ he interrupted, his brows raised pointedly.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Hermione, wincing.  ‘Um, I’d better go, I have classes tomorrow.’  She hopped up and kissed Lucius’s cheek.  ‘Bye!’

‘Bye,’ he said, bemused, because she was already gone.  ‘We just lost track of the time.’

Draco’s expression didn’t change.  ‘Clearly.  Anyway, I’m for bed.’

‘So am I,’ Lucius agreed around a yawn.

He didn’t have any nightmares.  He hadn’t, since Hermione fixed his mind.  He hoped it meant they were gone for good.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

He  _ did _ have a night-time disturbance that Sunday, after spending a frustrating week-end trying not to let Hermione catch him staring while also trying to figure out how to attract her notice in a romantic way.  Talking about things she liked didn’t work, because they always did that, so she just smiled when he steered the conversation in directions she enjoyed.  Staring intently into her eyes while she talked didn’t work, either, because she got that look about her that meant she was going to be afraid in a moment, and Lucius wanted more than anything to keep her from being afraid of him, ever again.  He thought his heart would crack in his chest and he might actually drop dead where he stood if she ever fled from him again.  He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

But, it seemed, after two days of being tantalisingly close to her, his subconscious had got a few ideas, because he began to dream, and Hermione was there.  Her smile was coy and her eyes were bright and her lips were soft, her skin creamy and smooth under his hands.  He groaned loudly when she touched him with her perfect, warm hands, igniting a fire under his skin, and he kissed his way down her body, worshipping every inch with mouth and tongue and hands, and he was nearing his goal when--

‘Father!’

Draco.  Well, that rather spoiled the mood.

Lucius opened his eyes.  Draco looked very worried, and the harsh words that had leapt to the tip of his tongue died.  He’d only thought he was having a nightmare and been concerned.  It made sense.  Lucius couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an erotic dream, whereas he’d been having nightmares almost nightly for the past two years--nearly three, actually.  Draco had never seen or heard him in the throes of an erotic dream, that he knew of, so he could hardly be expected to tell the difference between groaning and panting from fear and pain versus groaning and panting from….  Well.  He didn’t even want to think it with Draco in the room.

Cautiously, he sat up, bending his knees so that the blankets lifted, hiding the evidence of his…excitement, although it was quickly withering on its own, now.  He cleared his throat once, then again, feeling the warmth of his cheeks was like a beacon, telling the world what he’d been dreaming, but the words wouldn’t come.

He knew the instant Draco understood, because his son took three large steps backward, his face turning redder than a Weasley’s hair.  He looked at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the fire in the grate--anywhere but at Lucius.  Lucius didn’t mind, because he was having quite a bit of trouble looking at Draco, too.

‘Oh.  Um, I’m sorry,’ Draco squeaked.  ‘I thought you were having a nightmare, I heard you make a noise….’

He turned even redder, if that were possible, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pyjamas and shuffling his feet.

‘No,’ Lucius said with forced lightness, his own voice a bit on the squeaky side.  ‘No, not a nightmare this time.’  He cleared his throat again, but the squeakiness remained.  ‘Thank you for your concern, though.’

‘No problem,’ Draco eked out, and edged a little closer to the door.  ‘I’ll just go, then.  See you in the morning.’

Lucius pasted on a smile, nodding slightly, but still couldn’t look Draco in the face.  ‘Yes, all right.’

Draco spun and fled, and Lucius collapsed back on his pillows, blowing out a sigh.

‘Well,’ he said to the empty room, ‘that was awkward.’

He was agitated now, his heart still pounding, so it took him a while to get back to sleep, and once he did, he couldn’t recapture the lost threads of the dream.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘All right, class,’ Hermione said, smiling.  ‘Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for.’

‘ _ Star Wars _ !!’ a couple of the boys shouted, whooping.

One of the girls let out a shrill whistle, too, pumping the air with her fist.  Most of the rest of the class just looked confused by their excitement.

Lucius wasn’t confused at all.  In fact, he was looking forward to this film a lot, so if he’d been just a decade or so younger, he probably would have whooped and whistled right along with the students.  As it was, he tried to suppress a grin and wriggled down in his seat, settling into a more comfortable position.  Hermione had told him that this was a lot more action-oriented than  _ The Sound of Music _ , and--best of all--there was no singing!

‘That’s right,’ Hermione said calmly, but her eyes were dancing and he could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she tried to suppress a smile of her own.  ‘ _ Star Wars _ time.  This is one of the most important pieces of Muggle culture you will ever learn.  For one thing, once we’re finished with the second film, you’ll understand “Luke, I am your father,” which is pretty important, I think.  Either way, whether you enjoy this trilogy or not, I think you’ll be glad you saw it.  It’s a very large phenomenon in the Muggle world, so it’s a very big part of understanding some of your classmates better.  There are prequel movies being released, so some of your peers will be excited about that--after you’ve seen these movies, perhaps you’ll have something to talk about with them.  But I honestly think you’ll enjoy them.  After we watch all three films, next week we’ll talk about why they were so hugely important to Muggle cinema, and go on from there.  Let’s get started!’

She walked down the middle aisle to the projector and tapped it to start it, and nodded to Lucius, who waved his hand, extinguishing the candles with a grin.  Nope, still wasn’t old.  She smiled back and settled into the chair she’d set beside his desk.  She was so close that his fingers itched to reach over and touch her knee, but he resisted.  It wouldn’t do, in front of the students, for one thing--and he was afraid she would shove his hand off, for the other.  Rejection was fairly high on his list of things to avoid, if possible.

It was no longer such a problem when the credits began, though.  They began with an explosion of noise, a mighty fanfare that knocked him back in his seat and hooked his attention  _ immediately _ \--which was a good thing, because there was some reading to do at the beginning, explaining what the situation was in this galaxy they were about to float into.  He didn’t mind, because otherwise he would have had no idea which ship to root for, when they were plunged into the midst of a space battle.

Lucius’s mouth dropped open with stark wonder as laser beams pinged back and forth between the two ships--which were amazing in and of themselves.  The ideas Muggles came up with!  The most inventive most wizards got was enchanting things that already existed, or inventing new spells and potions, often for things Muggles had already got around to fixing  _ without _ magic.  He knew the ships were only models in front of a fake planet, but even that was extraordinary.  He suddenly wanted a toy version of one of those ships, very, very badly.

The smaller ship was captured by the bigger ship, and a battle with  _ more _ laser beams took place in a white corridor.  Lucius assumed the men in the uniforms and helmets were the crew of the smaller ship, which he was probably supposed to continue supporting, while the men in full white body armour who burst through the door appeared to be evil.  The face mask portion of their helmets gave that impression, anyway.

There were some robots, which piqued his interest, running away from the battle.  Well, shuffling and rolling, mostly.  He liked the little blue one, who spoke in incomprehensible beeps that sounded quite cheerful.

But it was after that little battle in the corridor was over, the uniformed men defeated, that Lucius’s attention was truly and firmly glued to the screen.  Through the doorway, through the smoke, from the blackness into the pristine white corridor stepped a tall man clad head to foot in black--even his head was encased in a black, shining helmet, his face obscured with a strange mask.  He surveyed the damage, and Lucius did not know what he was thinking because of the mask, couldn’t even guess.  A chill ran down his spine as the man calmly stepped over one of the bodies of his own men and proceeded down the corridor, his cape sweeping behind him.

‘Lord Vader,’ one of his men addressed him.

Lucius folded his arms before him on the desk and rested his chin on them, engrossed.

Vader easily lifted a man and crushed his windpipe a moment later.  The robots--droids, the film informed him--encountered a beautiful woman in white.  The droids escaped, but the woman was brought before Vader.  Lucius would probably have been shaking (and doing his best to hide it), but the woman merely lifted her chin and glared at Vader, her eyes flashing.  She was a princess.  She was fire and steel.

She reminded him very strongly of Hermione.

‘Hermione?’ he whispered as softly as he could, leaning toward her for a moment.

‘Yeah?’ she breathed back.

‘Does the princess die?’

‘No.  Leia lives.’

‘Okay.’

Relieved, he settled back down.  The droids had narrowly escaped getting blown up, but the planet they had landed on appeared to be a giant sand dune, the gold droid glinting blindingly in the sun.  Lucius smiled as the two droids bickered back and forth--he still had no idea what the little blue one (Are Too, apparently, which was a  _ really _ odd name, but then, it was a droid, not a person) was saying, but given the gold one’s annoyed responses, he had a great deal of sass, which Lucius could appreciate.  Particularly since Goldie was extremely bossy, and not in a good way.  He would have told him to quit whining, if he’d met him in person.

Are Too apparently agreed, because he ditched Goldie in short order, going his own way.  Unfortunately, neither of them were right, it seemed, because they both ended up captured by the creepiest little beings Lucius had ever seen.  They had eyes that glowed like coals in the depths of their hoods, and spoke gibberish in scratchy little voices.

Lucius had been unable to suppress a gasp when Are Too was electrocuted by the little creeps, and Hermione patted his arm.

‘He doesn’t die, either,’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Oh, good,’ Lucius sighed, relaxing.

He had no idea how a droid would have survived that, but he was obviously extremely advanced.  Perhaps he had a built-in surge protector that just took a while to reboot him?

Whatever the reason, he did seem to be fine when he and Goldie were reunited, and Goldie (whose name turned out to be C-3PO, which made R2’s name make a lot more sense) actually made himself useful by convincing Luke, Whiner Extraordinaire (‘But I was going to the Tashee Station to pick up some power converters!!’   _Boo hoo hoo,_ Lucius thought), to suggest to his uncle that they purchase R2.  This seemed like a wonderful idea to Lucius, who thought that R2 was clearly the most capable character on that planet.  Luke would need R2 to survive, no doubt about it.

Although, the more Luke whined as he cleaned up the droids, the more Lucius understood.  The boy was pretty young, and that planet looked like the most boring place ever.  It was like a giant beach with no actual beach.  A person could only build so many sandcastles for fun before he just went crazy from the lack of things to do.  Also, Lucius wasn’t exactly sure what ‘moisture farming’ entailed, but it seemed like something machines would have to do, since (as he understood it) one could not actually harvest water molecules with one’s hands.  That meant there was probably nothing to do in between emptying or fixing machines.  Well, and cleaning newly-purchased droids.  Oh, joy and rapture!

Yes, he could understand wanting to leave that planet far, far behind.

While he was cleaning, R2 played part of the message Princess Leia must have been leaving with the droid when she was spotted and captured.  The message was not for Luke, unsurprisingly, it was for someone called ‘Oh be one Kenobi,’ another really odd name.  Lucius wondered if he was Japanese or something, since it sounded vaguely Oriental.  R2 quit playing even the partial message after Luke removed the restraining bolt that kept him on the property, and Lucius nearly jumped up and cheered for the clever little droid when he realised it had been a ploy to get loose.  He’d clearly figured out that Luke would be entranced by the footage of the beautiful woman (as boys are), and would do just about anything without thinking it through to see the rest of the message.  Lucius restrained himself to a grin and a chuckle, though, and rated R2 very highly in his list of favourite characters.

‘He would have been in Slytherin,’ he whispered to Hermione.

She grinned and shook her head, but didn’t contradict him.

Naturally, without R2, Luke immediately went and almost got himself killed, saved at the last moment by an old man with an aspect Lucius instantly liked.  The old man turned out to be the mysterious Kenobi R2 was searching for, otherwise known as Ben.  He was not Oriental, so Lucius just decided not to think about the names too much anymore.  Clearly, this galaxy just had strange names.

Ben Kenobi led to the discovery of something that made Lucius, and nearly everyone else in the classroom, gasp with wonder and delight--a small metal wand that, when activated, became a laser sword!

‘Wicked!’ Lucius cried, borrowing one of the Weasleys’ favourite expressions, because he honestly could think of no other word for it.

‘I want one of those!’ one of the boys shouted excitedly.

Hermione laughed.  ‘I’m sorry, but they don’t exist outside of fiction.’

There was a chorus of disappointed moans from the younger set.  Lucius had assumed that they didn’t actually exist, so he was more amused than anything, although he was too entranced by Luke waving the ‘lightsabre’ around (hopefully he wouldn’t accidentally chop his own leg off in the process) to smirk at anyone.

Hermione chuckled again.  ‘All right, all right, shhh.  Let’s watch.’

The students settled in again, barely in time for Ben’s explanation of what a Jedi Knight was.  ‘Guardian of peace and justice’ sounded like something Lucius would like to add to his business cards, but he doubted he’d be taken seriously at this point in his life.  Hermione could probably get away with it, though.  He made a mental note to suggest it to Potter at some point.  He would probably explode.

Then, despite seeing the full distress message from Princess Leia,  _ and _ having a lightsabre,  _ and _ being handed a ticket off the planet he hated so much, Luke refused Ben’s offer to come along to help Leia.  This did not compute with Lucius, so he chose to think that Luke was being an idiot, and that he should have asked R2’s opinion, since R2 was clearly the superior intellect.

On their way home, they discovered a bunch of the little creeps had been killed--the evil men in white body armour, the stormtroopers, had murdered them.  Lucius wholeheartedly agreed that the little creeps were creepy, and annoying, but he really didn’t think that was justification for wholesale slaughter.  All the little creeps wanted was to sell their junk.  Was that so awful?  And they couldn’t help how they looked and sounded, obviously.  They were probably even  _ creepier _ under their little hooded robes, so at least they were trying.  He was somewhat relieved to find there was an actual reason for it--searching for R2 and 3PO, although that was also horrifying.  He didn’t want anything to happen to R2.

Ben laid it out for him, and Luke realised that meant the stormtroopers would be going to his home to find the droids, which led to a scene that caused several gasps, a few noises of disgust, and one girl--the snotty, suspicious Slytherin--to run out of the room, a hand over her mouth.  Lucius had seen worse, but it was still unpleasant to see Luke’s aunt and uncle’s burning corpses--well, if you could call what was left a corpse.  Still, he’d half expected it.  There had to be some way to get Luke on this quest to save Leia, or else it was pointless to get to know him at all, and his aunt and uncle were really the only obstacles standing in his way.

Sure enough, he returned to Ben and the droids and signed up for adventure.

There were also intermittent scenes showing Leia’s status with the evil Empire’s army.  She was implied to be tortured by a floating ball with a very long needle sticking out of it, which made Lucius wince, and almost ask Hermione if she was  _ sure _ Leia didn’t die.

Vader continued to be intimidating, his deep voice and casually cruel demeanour sending random chills down Lucius’s spine.  He was impressed despite himself when Vader calmly started choking one of his fellow evil men, simply for disbelieving in his ‘sad devotion to that ancient religion.’

‘I find your lack of faith disturbing,’ Vader said coolly, completely unruffled as he used his magic to crush the life out of the man.

Lucius felt sick and awed.  That might have been him, in another world.  This was like wizards in space, if wizards were endangered nearly to extinction, forced to live directly alongside Muggles.  Honestly, given the obvious fear and respect Vader commanded from  _ most _ of those around him…it really wasn’t bad.  Which just made Lucius feel even more of an idiot for thinking that exterminating Muggles had ever been the way to go.   _ If _ he had still felt superior to them, then it was clear that dominating them, demanding their terror and obedience, would have been both much more intelligent and much more gratifying.  Of course, he felt sick to his stomach even thinking such thoughts, and continued to watch Vader with the confusing, contradicting feelings of both admiration and total disgust.

Vader only allowed the man to live when his immediate superior demanded it, releasing the man with an unconcerned wave of his hand.  He commanded without having to try, dominating everything around him just by standing there.  He exuded power, and control, and Lucius was drawn to him, envious, and nauseated by his own continuing lust for power.

Hermione touched his elbow, making him jump.  ‘All right?’ she whispered.

He gave her a faint smile and turned back to the screen.  He was stronger than this.  He was  _ better _ than this.  He wouldn’t be drawn in by a fictional character.

It was easier when Vader went away and they returned to Luke.

Luke, Ben and the droids had come to a supposedly nasty city called Mos Eisley, although it didn’t look any nastier than the rest of Planet Desert, in Lucius’s opinion--which wasn’t saying much.  Ben used his magic to trick the Muggle stormtroopers into letting them pass without question (which Lucius had done on more than one occasion, so he wasn’t all that impressed).  The droids weren’t allowed in the pub Ben selected, which automatically lowered its approval rating.  How did they expect Luke to survive without R2?

Unsurprisingly, Luke was nearly murdered-- _ again _ \--this time not because some ‘sand people’ (who made very odd fashion choices) wanted to strip his speeder for parts, but because two  _ very _ ugly men had the gall to dislike  _ Luke’s _ face.  Luke had a fairly nice face.  He almost looked like a Malfoy, with his pointy features, blond hair and blue eyes.  If he was less tanned, he’d fit right in to a Malfoy family photo.  The two men, on the other hand, were hideous.  One of them looked like the unfortunate union between a human and a pig, while the other had an arse growing out of his beard, and the biggest, blackest, buggiest eyes Lucius had ever seen.  The effect was not pleasant.

Fortunately, Ben used his lightsabre and chopped them up before they could hurt Luke.  Honestly, Ben and R2 needed to take turns babysitting Luke, or else he was going to get murdered for certain.

Then, Ben introduced Luke to Chewbacca, who appeared to be some kind of intelligent bear species, only with a flatter face.  He only seemed to speak in growls and chuffs and other animal sounds, but the other characters seemed to understand him well enough--or at least Ben, and a newcomer named Han Solo did.

Lucius liked Han Solo on sight.  He was cool and sarcastic and unimpressed with everything around him, but he had the ability to back it up, despite apparently being a Muggle.  He even shot an ugly overgrown bug who had him at gunpoint, so quickly and casually that Lucius would have missed it if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

‘Sorry ’bout the mess,’ Solo said to the bartender, flipping a coin in his direction, not a hair out of place.

Lucius liked the way he walked, and the way he talked, and even the way he dressed, although it wasn’t very stylish by wizard standards.  He was just  _ cool _ .  If he’d been real, Lucius would have hired him on the spot as a personal bodyguard, just to have him around.

Luke seemed less impressed, particularly with the price Solo charged to take them where they wanted to go.  Lucius had no idea how much a credit was worth, but he imagined that staying under the radar when an enormous evil Empire ruled the whole galaxy would be difficult at best, so Solo was probably fair to ask as much as he did.  Luke was also unimpressed with Solo and Chewbacca’s ship, the  _ Millennium Falcon _ , but Lucius had decided that he wanted a model of  _ that _ ship, in particular, the moment it came on screen.  It just looked so amazing!

There were more laser beam battles--blaster battles, actually--but they all managed to get aboard and escape, which was pretty exciting, resulting in some whooping from the girls and boys who were most engaged, and a soft sigh from Lucius.  He’d assumed they were going to make it, but the confirmation was nice.  There would be no need for a trilogy if they were captured so early on--and if they  _ were _ captured, they’d find a way out of it.  Still, princesses must be rescued sooner or later, mustn’t they?

Hermione nudged him.  ‘You weren’t worried?’ she teased softly, smiling.

Lucius smiled back.  ‘They couldn’t fail already.  Things must happen when it is time for them to happen,’ he said.

She got a very curious look on her face, but now was not the time nor place to ask her about it, so he turned back to the film, filing the moment away to ask her later.  She muttered something under her breath, but again, he let it be--for now.

Ben taught Luke more about the Force (the film’s name for magic, clearly), while the droids attempted to lose to Chewbacca at a very strange-looking game that involved holograms, so it was obviously amazing anyway.  Meanwhile, Solo scoffed at the idea of the Force, and then Ben felt it when Alderaan was blown up.  Princess Leia had failed to keep Tarkin, Vader’s superior, from blowing it up, despite her attempts to lie to protect it.  At least, Lucius assumed it was a lie.  He didn’t think she’d give in so easily.

Lucius could only stare in horror as an entire planet was destroyed, his skin rippling with chills.  He desperately hoped that the Muggles never came up with anything  _ that _ powerful in reality.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It took Lucius a long time to regain as keen an interest as he’d started with, although the students didn’t seem to share his reaction, given their whooping and clapping every time the heroes did something.  His interest was mostly rekindled by Vader’s search for Ben.  He liked the idea of being able to feel another’s presence with his magic--he’d often felt that was how Dumbledore seemed so all-knowing all the time, as simply being prepared for someone’s approach would allow one to react with composure, at least most of the time.  He made a mental note to find out if it was possible to cultivate such an ability.

He did enjoy their troubles getting back to the ship after rescuing the princess (sort of), and was growing an appreciation for Chewbacca.  He didn’t make much sense, but Lucius actually enjoyed that, because he could imagine that every time Chewbacca growled, it meant, ‘Piss off, or I’ll eat you.’

The best part was the lightsabre duel between Ben and Vader.  Lightsabres were officially the most awesome things he’d ever seen, and he didn’t even  _ like _ the word awesome.  Ben’s death made it a little less awesome, but not by much--although he was rather sad to see the old man go, and upset that Vader had won.  After that, he was actually surprised when the film continued.  What was the point after that?  How could it possibly top that?

Of course, as soon as he thought that, another space battle began, followed shortly by the attack on the Death Star.  The space battles still weren’t as impressive as the lightsabre battle, but his heart pounded anyway as the outmatched Rebels were picked off one by one.

Finally, Luke was the only one left, R2 was injured and out of commission, Ben was just a ghost and couldn’t help, and Solo and Chewbacca had left to pay off the bounty on Solo’s head.  With Vader on his tail, Lucius was certain that Luke’s end was nigh.  Princess Leia would undoubtedly be the star of the sequels.

But then, out of nowhere--‘You’re free and clear, kid!  Now let’s blow this thing and go home!’

Han Solo!

Everyone but Hermione--even Lucius--leapt to their feet, cheering and clapping.  Hermione giggled, joining the applause with a wide grin when Lucius looked down at her.  Lucius grinned back, although part of him was still worried; Vader had not been killed, and he was far more powerful and dangerous than Tarkin.

They all eventually settled down--just in time for a medal ceremony, in fact.  It all seemed overblown and unnecessary to Lucius, but he was very glad to see that R2 had been repaired.  Luke may be the protagonist, but R2 was clearly the hero.

‘Wasn’t that fun?’ Hermione asked when the credits rolled.

Another round of cheering broke out, making her laugh again.

‘All right, all right,’ she said, holding up her hands for silence.  ‘That’s all we’ve got time for today.  We’ll watch the second one,  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ , on Thursday.  Your homework is to write down five questions you have about the film we just watched.’

The students dispersed with a great deal more noise than normal, excitedly chattering amongst themselves.  Lucius waited until they had all gone, as always, before approaching Hermione.  Draco had told him that Arthur and Molly had cancelled their dinner this week, as they were going to France with Bill and Fleur, to celebrate with Fleur’s family.  Draco had invited Ginny out to dinner for the night.  He was hoping as hard as he could that Hermione hadn’t already made alternate plans.

‘Hi,’ he said, and then tried not to roll his eyes at himself.

She shot him a smile, her eyes crinkling with amusement.  ‘Hi.’

‘Draco tells me Arthur and Molly are away for the week,’ Lucius began hesitantly, feeling unaccountably nervous.

It was really ridiculous.  He’d asked her to come over many times before.

But then, he hadn’t known he was in love with her before.  There was a new layer of meaning when he asked now.  All the times before, he’d been one friend asking for another’s company.  Now, even though Hermione wasn’t aware of it, Lucius was asking her over in the capacity of his romantic interest.  (He refused to use the word ‘girlfriend’--he wasn’t eighteen, and it didn’t do Hermione justice.)

‘Yes, that’s true,’ she agreed simply.

He cleared his throat, trying not to shuffle his feet.  ‘So you are available this evening, then?’

He was relieved to note that he sounded much more confident and casual than he felt.

Hermione hesitated, pausing in the act of gathering the homework scrolls from her desk.  ‘Actually, I need to mark papers tonight,’ she said finally, her tone and expression neutral.  ‘I got behind while I was incapacitated.’

He stepped forward almost unconsciously, trying to catch her eye, his heart pounding as he contemplated a night without her.  He felt unsteady with the force of his longing, like he’d tip over in a strong breeze.

‘Bring your work along,’ he said, using his most persuasive tone--the one that made even the most ludicrous ideas sound reasonable, the one that almost always got Lucius whatever he wanted.  ‘I promise not to bother you.’

She looked doubtful, and did not appear to be swayed by his tone.

‘Please?’ he tried instead.

Hermione sighed, smiling, and he knew he had won.  Grinning, he took her bag from her and offered his arm.

‘I will be busy coming up with questions anyway,’ he said lightly.

‘You better be,’ she returned with mock seriousness.

Lucius thought his heart might pound its way right out of his chest, and he couldn’t stop smiling, even though he knew he must look completely daft.

Draco was not stopping home between work and his date, so they suffered no interruptions.  Hermione was quickly settled with tea and sandwiches on the library sofa Lucius favoured, surrounded by piles of scrolls.  Lucius installed himself at the opposite end of the sofa with a blank parchment, quill pen, and ink, tapping his chin with the quill as he pondered.

The first question was easy--How did they  _ do _ all that?  He had seen  _ The Sound of Music _ , and while it was enjoyable, it hadn’t involved any special effects that he knew of.  If there were, they certainly weren’t anywhere near the magnitude of what he had just seen.  Lucius had come to appreciate and sometimes admire the technological ingenuity of Muggles, but never before had he been in awe of it.  Now he was--and some tiny, quiet corner of his mind regretted, however infinitesimally, that he had been born a wizard and not a Muggle.  Not that he would ever, ever admit that aloud, even to himself.

The other four questions were harder.  The story was good but simple, so he was hard-pressed to come up with any questions about it.  His mind wandered over the details, searching for something to pick at.

He still shuddered at the thought of Vader.  The character was too reminiscent of the Dark Lord, and Lucius’s insides shrivelled at the memory of how spellbound he’d been by him.  It was frightening to him that he’d tried so hard to change, to be the sort of man Hermione would admire, and the first time he was confronted with someone powerful--even worse, a  _ fictional _ someone--he was immediately attracted to that power, ready to fall into old habits.  How could he expect Hermione to trust him when he was so easily tempted?  How could he trust himself?

Lucius shook off those thoughts with an effort.  It wasn’t helping him complete his assignment.  ‘How can I ever trust myself to be with you?’ wasn’t exactly about  _ Star Wars _ , after all.

He considered some of the other characters instead.  He’d liked Ben, and was still rather sad he was dead now.  Luke had made it through the first film, thanks to Han and R2, but Lucius was still not convinced he was going to live through the next two.  R2 would have to work overtime to keep him going without Ben around.

‘You’re the R2-D2 to Harry’s Luke Skywalker,’ he said, frowning thoughtfully.

Hermione snorted out a laugh.  ‘What?!’ she sputtered.

He blinked, surprised.  ‘I’m serious!’

She turned red, but her grin only grew wider.  ‘You think I’m like R2-D2?  He’s a robot!’

‘Yes, but he’s the clever, capable one who saves the heroes’ bacon,’ Lucius insisted.  ‘No one would have known Leia was in danger if he hadn’t found his way to Ben Kenobi.  Luke wouldn’t have survived about eighty times over, which means that the Death Star wouldn’t have been destroyed.  You’re the clever, capable one who saves Harry and Ron all the time.  If it weren’t for you, neither of them would have survived their first year, and the Dark Lord wouldn’t have been defeated.  You’re R2, and he’s clearly the real hero of the story,’ he concluded with a firm nod.

She giggled, turning vibrantly red, so red she was almost purple, one hand over her mouth.

‘It’s true!’

Hermione waved a hand.  ‘Oh, stop it!’ she scolded him, but she didn’t stop grinning, and after she was finally able to stop laughing, she put her feet in his lap before she went back to her marking.

Lucius smiled and rested his hand on her perfect ankles, obediently returning to his question-pondering when she shot him a look.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘This is awful!’ one of the students cried.  ‘Why is everything going wrong?!’

Lucius had to agree.

It was Thursday, and they were watching  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ .  First, Luke had nearly died out in a frozen wasteland because he’d forgotten to bring R2 along (‘Called it,’ Lucius had whispered to Hermione, which made her stifle a giggle), and had almost instantly been attacked by a Yeti.  He dealt with the Yeti himself, but only the timely intervention of Ghost-Ben and Han had saved him from freezing to death out in the middle of nowhere.  Then, Vader, more terrifyingly evil than ever, had found their base and invaded it with his army, forcing them to evacuate.  Luke had taken R2 and headed to the Bayou (or at least, that’s what Lucius was calling it mentally, because its real name didn’t sound like a name anyone would give anything, and also it was a giant swamp), where R2 had nearly been eaten by a giant squid; meanwhile, Leia, Han, Chewbacca and 3PO had taken the  _ Millennium Falcon _ and fled from the Empire into an asteroid field, only to nearly be eaten by a giant eel thing.  Then, they had found out where a friend of Han’s was, only to be fired upon when they entered the system.  It seemed like things couldn’t get any worse.

‘If they all die, I’m never watching another film again,’ the younger Goyle proclaimed, to much agreement.

‘They’re not going to die,’ Lucius huffed, unable to prevent himself from rolling his eyes.  ‘There’s a whole third film to go after this one, and if they were all dead, it would be extremely boring.  No one wants to watch two hours of staring at corpses floating through space.’

‘It could be the funeral,’ the student who’d shouted before argued stubbornly.  ‘It could be two hours of funeral.’

‘I somehow doubt the Empire would go to the expense,’ Lucius said flippantly.  ‘And if they’re all dead, then there will be no heroes left to go to the trouble, either.’

The student and the younger Goyle reluctantly subsided.  Lucius tried to ignore Hermione’s amused smirk.

They were finally allowed to land, and the students all seemed amused by Lando Calrissian.  Lucius was not so impressed, mostly because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about him.  Even Han, who was supposedly his friend, said he couldn’t be trusted, and so Lucius didn’t.  It certainly didn’t help that 3PO was mysteriously attacked by some hidden force in a back room, blown into pieces.  Lucius wouldn’t miss the mouthy droid, but it was definitely alarming for the heroes he  _ did _ care about.

Meanwhile, Luke met Yoda, who Lucius did like.  He was a little creepy, at first, reminding Lucius strongly of a cross between Dumbledore and a house elf, but when he dropped the doddering old fool routine, he said a lot of things that made sense--after one sorted out the odd grammatical construction of his sentences, of course.  Some of it was a bit dodgy, but a lot of it seemed very wise to Lucius.  He particularly enjoyed Yoda’s speech to Luke about the Force and how it connected everything.

‘Luminous beings,’ he repeated softly--it was a strong image that he liked very much, and it stayed with him long after the film had ended.

Luke’s temptation by the Dark Side, however, had left Lucius squirming with discomfort, as it felt too close to home.  A lot of his own downfall had occurred because he was angry, and scared, and he hadn’t been equipped to handle it.  In his family, emotion had always been firmly suppressed and hidden behind a frosty demeanour--and researching Muggles hadn’t been viewed as studying the enemy, it had been viewed as  _ treason _ .  Therefore, Lucius had not known how to handle his anger and fear and loathing for Muggles and Muggle-borns and their odd ways of life, nor had he been able to gain the sense of understanding he now possessed, which would have gone a long way toward soothing his fears.  The Dark Lord’s speeches had appealed to those fears, which had been stewing for years at that point, and his solution--wiping them all out--had seemed the only way.  Once he boiled everything else away, Lucius was left with the somewhat uncomfortable knowledge that he had joined the Death Eaters because he was afraid.

The ‘luminous beings’ image staved those thoughts off, allowing him to refocus on the film.

Naturally, it turned out that Lando had been hiding Vader, and Leia, Chewbacca and Han became prisoners, with Han getting the worst of it.  Well, the worst of it after 3PO, who, as it turned out, was not dead, despite being in pieces.  Chewbacca worked in little bits to put him back together.  Lucius rather wished he wouldn’t, as 3PO’s constant harping could be really grating, but he supposed they were too nice to simply leave him like that.

Luke, being the impulsive idiot that he was, immediately left to go and rescue his friends as soon as he sensed what was happening, against Yoda and Ghost-Ben’s advice.  He at least had the sense to bring R2 with him, although it didn’t end up mattering, since they were quickly separated.

Vader and Luke battled through the underbelly of the city in the clouds, with Luke taking quite a beating.  Lucius winced in sympathy several times, although he couldn’t help feeling that Luke had brought it on himself by refusing to listen to his teachers.  Leia was perfectly capable of handling herself, as she proved when she took charge of the situation and got herself, Chewbacca, 3PO, R2 and a remorseful Lando to the  _ Falcon _ .  Han had been frozen and taken by the bounty hunter, so he was an unfortunate casualty, but Lucius doubted Luke could have prevented that even if he had arrived sooner.  Leia could hardly be expected to take care of  _ everything _ .

Then came an earth-shattering revelation.

‘No, Luke-- _ I _ am your father,’ Vader said, after chopping off his own son’s hand.

Lucius’s jaw dropped, and the rest of the class leapt to their feet, shouting in protest or confusion.

‘What the--?  What just--?’ Lucius sputtered.

Hermione only chuckled, grinning from ear to ear.  ‘This is very interesting,’ she said brightly.  ‘I grew up knowing this little twist.  It’s interesting to see how it comes across to people who didn’t know.’

‘But how could--?!’

What he wanted to ask was how Vader could be so cruel to his own son--probably his  _ only _ son.  How could he chop off his hand and try to kill him?  Why would he  _ want _ his son to join him on the Dark Side?  Wouldn’t he rather join Luke on the  _ Light _ Side?

Lucius’s mouth snapped shut and he tried very, very hard not to think about Draco, turning sharply back to the screen.

Hermione touched his elbow.  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.  Slowly, she withdrew her hand, and the classroom gradually settled back down as the students grudgingly accepted the reality that Vader was Luke’s  _ not dead _ father.

By this time, Luke had escaped by surviving a very long fall, and then being rescued by Leia, Chewbacca and Lando.  They escaped the system after Chewbacca and R2 fixed the  _ Falcon _ , and the film ended with Luke and Leia pondering what to do next, or so Lucius assumed.  He didn’t even take any joy from Luke’s new robot hand.  He felt wrung out and exhausted.

The other students must have felt the same way, because there was no cheering this time, and they filed out grumbling when Hermione assigned them to write five more questions for Tuesday.

Lucius stayed put this time, and Hermione came to him instead, sitting in front of him and propping her chin on her hand so they were nose to nose.

‘Hi,’ she said, her breath tickling across his mouth.

‘Hi,’ he said glumly.

‘You okay?’

He shrugged one shoulder.

She wrinkled her nose so that the tip of it brushed his, tickling and making him wrinkle his nose, too.

‘Hey,’ she prodded.  ‘Come on.  It’ll all be okay.  You’ll see, next week.’

He sighed.

‘I’ll make you dinner,’ she offered sweetly, ‘if you’ll show me a smile.’

Draco had cancelled the weekly dinner due to Arthur and Molly’s continued absence, opting instead for a private evening with Ginny again.  Hermione was offering to come over anyway.  Lucius couldn’t help it--a smile immediately blossomed on his face, and Hermione stood, grinning.

‘That’s better.  Just let me get my things and we can go home.’

He popped up to gather his own belongings, suddenly energised.  He didn’t think Hermione had noticed that she hadn’t said ‘go to your house’ this time, or ‘go to the manor,’ but had rather said ‘go home’--like she was calling Malfoy Manor  _ home _ .  She probably hadn’t noticed she’d done it, but he certainly had, and it overjoyed him--perhaps there was a chance he might succeed in making her fall in love with him after all, if he could just find the right path.

He carried her bag for her again, earning another of those wonderful warm smiles, and Hermione kept up a steady stream of chatter as they went home and while she cooked.  She made quesadillas again, at his request, and she made far too many of them.  That turned out to be a good thing, though, because when Draco returned from work, he brought an unexpected guest with him.

‘Good afternoon, Hermione, Mr Malfoy,’ Harry greeted them cheerfully as he bounded after Draco into the dining room.

‘He followed me home,’ Draco said dryly.  ‘I know he’s expensive to feed, but can we keep him?’

Lucius’s brows rose, but he pretended to ponder for a moment.  ‘I don’t know, what do you think, Hermione?’

She grinned.  ‘Oh, I don’t think it’ll hurt anything.  He doesn’t bite.’

‘Usually,’ Harry agreed.

‘Then I suppose he can stay,’ Lucius said with mock annoyance.

‘Gee, thanks.  Ooooh, quesadillas!’

Draco rolled his eyes and sat down more sedately as Harry plopped into a chair and started chowing down.

Hermione merely chuckled.  ‘Easy, Harry.  There’s plenty to go around.’

His mouth was full, so he offered her a thumbs up.

‘Where is Ginny this evening?’ Lucius asked tentatively, reaching for a quesadilla and keeping a wary eye on Harry.  He didn’t want to lose a finger.  ‘Did I get my dates confused?’

Draco immediately adopted a hangdog expression.  ‘No, you didn’t.  She cancelled on me.’

Lucius glanced at Hermione, noting that she looked sympathetic but unsurprised.  She definitely knew more about the Draco-Ginny situation than she was letting on--particularly the Ginny side of the equation.  Now was not the time to grill her about it, but he made a mental note to try to pry some information out of her later.

‘Ah,’ was all he said for now, and changed the subject.

They finished eating and relocated to the sitting room, where Harry finally got around to explaining why he’d come.

‘I wanted to let you know,’ he began, his tone serious for the first time all evening.  ‘We’ve got trial dates for the Death Eaters now--and Porter.  His trial is scheduled for August 7.  You’ll probably have to testify at several Death Eater trials, so I’ll get you a copy of the full list later, but the most relevant to us is Dolohov, and I double-checked his--he’s scheduled for July 10.’

Lucius pressed his lips together and nodded, trying to dispel the knot that had suddenly formed in his gut by willpower alone.  Then Hermione reached over and touched his arm, and it evaporated.  He breathed in.

‘Thank you.’

Harry nodded once.  ‘You’re welcome.’

‘About Porter,’ Hermione said suddenly.  ‘If you could tell Kingsley I’d like to speak with him sometime soon, I would appreciate it.  It’s important but not urgent.’

‘Will do,’ Harry agreed easily.

Lucius struggled with himself for a moment, unsure if speaking out would be good or bad for himself.  Ultimately, though, it was an easy choice to make--whether the suggestion was bad for him or not, it could only be good for the general populace.

‘Is anyone investigating the idea that the attack on the Ministry might have been a diversion?’ he asked uncertainly.

Harry blinked.  ‘What do you mean, Mr Malfoy?’

Lucius drew a slow breath and tried to shore up his patience.  ‘I mean, Mr Potter, that it seems unlikely that a group of rogue Death Eaters--a  _ small _ group, with no Dark Lord or other powerful leadership--would decide to attack the Ministry on a whim.  The Dark Lord himself put off a direct attack on the Ministry for as long as possible.  Either the group that attacked the Ministry was suicidal, or the attack was meant to distract from the real plot.  I would bet on the latter.’

He could see Hermione nodding her agreement in his peripheral vision.  Harry looked startled and more than a little disturbed, but he appeared to be taking the idea seriously.

‘I’ll…I’ll pass that along to Kingsley, as well,’ he said faintly.

‘You mean he hasn’t thought of that already?’ Draco put in, clearly surprised.

‘Kingsley’s been rather busy,’ Harry said, shrugging.  ‘If you hadn’t noticed, it turns out half the department’s full of head cases, and we’ve got a full batch of Death Eaters on our hands.  He’s been busy trying to root out who we can trust and who we can’t, while still keeping every area covered and secured.  It’s not easy.  His hands are full, and I’m sure his head hasn’t had much room left, either.’

None of them could argue that.  Harry visited for a while longer, but finally excused himself.  He, too, was busy, between his Auror training and taking up actual Auror duties to pick up the slack left by those Kingsley had eliminated as untrustworthy.

Hermione took her leave shortly after, but she hugged Lucius before she left.

‘I hope you’re cheered up,’ she said quietly in his ear.  ‘I didn’t think the films would depress you.’

‘I’m all right,’ Lucius reassured her, and how could he not be, with her arms around his neck, the length of her body pressed against his, and her eyes full of warm concern as they met his.

‘Good,’ she said, and kissed his cheek.  ‘Good night, Lucius.’

He reluctantly released her and she disappeared through the Floo.  He watched the flames turn back to their normal colours and wandered back toward the sitting room, his hands in his pockets.  He felt at loose ends without her, and he wasn’t especially eager to be around Draco at the moment.  There was nothing for it, though, and he was standing behind the sofa in the sitting room before he was ready.

Draco looked up at him and said nothing.  Lucius looked back, but the silence was grating after the cheerful chatter of the past few hours, so it wasn’t long before he broke.

‘I’m sorry,’ he blurted.

Draco frowned.  ‘For what?’

Lucius searched for an answer, but there was no easy one at hand.  He shrugged helplessly after a moment.  ‘Everything’ was the most honest answer, but it seemed dreadfully inadequate.

His son sighed.  ‘You don’t need to apologise once a week, you know.  I thought we were past this.’

Lucius frowned.  ‘I don’t think two, maybe three conversations constitutes being past it.  To be honest, I don’t know if I’ll ever really be past it--I nearly got you killed,  _ very _ nearly ruined your life, and I’ve been a terrible, terrible parent almost from day one.’  He paused, looking away.  ‘And I promised I would make everything perfect for you,’ he added bitterly.  ‘I didn’t even come close.’

Draco’s brow wrinkled.  ‘When did you promise that?  I don’t remember that.’

‘You wouldn’t.  I made that promise when you were born,’ Lucius said lowly.

The fire snapped, the only sound in the room.  Lucius stared at his shoes and waited for Draco’s response.  It wasn’t verbal, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when Draco tentatively hugged him, having padded silently across the room.  They stood like that for a moment.

‘I don’t think any parent is able to fulfil all the promises and hopes they have for their child when they’re born,’ Draco said finally, quiet and sober.  ‘You had good intentions, and…you tried.  You went about it completely the wrong way, but at least you tried.  I know that….’  His voice caught and cleared his throat.  ‘I know that you thought you were doing the right thing for me.  I appreciate that.’

Lucius smiled wanly.  ‘The road to hell….’

Draco squeezed tighter for a moment.  ‘Hey.  Every parent makes mistakes.’

‘I’ve made more than most.’

‘Maybe, but you loved me, even though you’ve always kind of sucked at showing it,’ he said dourly.  ‘That cane hurts, you know.  Gesture with your hands, not with your cane.’  He paused.  ‘So not my point.  Anyway, you loved me, and you made sure I wanted for nothing, and I can hardly claim that you didn’t pay attention to me.  How many times did you say I complained to you about Harry that one summer?’

Lucius raised a brow.  ‘Before your second year?  Over a dozen, although I lost count at some point.  You complained to your mother even more, if I recall correctly.  She always did have more patience with your whining.’

Draco pouted exaggeratedly.  ‘I don’t whine!’  Then he grinned.  ‘Much.  Anyway, my point is, you weren’t like the worst parent who ever lived, and you were trying to secure my future.  You just chose the wrong path, that’s all.  We’re all human.  It happens.  Okay?’

Lucius sighed.  ‘You’re not going to let go of me until I agree, are you?’

‘Nope,’ Draco said cheekily.

He heaved another sigh.  ‘Fine, okay.  I wasn’t the worst parent ever.  Do you think they make mugs that say that?’

Draco released him, smiling brightly.  ‘I’ll see if I can find one for your birthday.’

Lucius rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help a little smile of his own.

‘So what brought this on?  You’ve been in a really good mood lately, up until now.’

Lucius wasn’t about to explain that he’d been watching Muggle cinema and saw some uncomfortable parallels between the villain and himself.  At least he’d never even considered chopping Draco’s hand off--but the rest of it was still a little too close for comfort.

‘Oh, nothing,’ he said vaguely.  ‘Just thinking….’

Draco shot him a doubtful look, but let it go without further comment.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

The week-end passed without incident.  Hermione spent Sunday with them, teaching Tibby how to play Monopoly.  Lucius dreaded playing her, but Draco was blissfully unaware, and rather excited to play a game with his favourite of the house elves.  Lucius was correct to dread it, because Tibby was immediately ruthless and calculating.  He wasn’t surprised at all when she beat them all--and, naturally, lost interest after ‘defeating’ them.  Draco was left open-mouthed with shock, but Hermione and Lucius were merely amused.

Tuesday brought the last of the trilogy,  _ The Return of the Jedi _ .  Lucius wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, although the Goyles and the students seemed to have recovered their enthusiasm in the interim.

The opening improved Lucius’s outlook, though, because while it took quite some time to unfold, it turned out that the whole first act was rescuing Han from Jabba, a giant ugly thing that Lucius was very glad to see explode later.  He was also interested again because Luke seemed to have matured after his experiences in the previous film, behaving with a great deal more decorum and circumspection.  Even when the plan seemed to be going awry, it turned out that he had planned it that way.  Lucius was impressed, and thought that perhaps Luke might be able to survive without R2 and Ghost-Ben to hold his hand now, or Han to come swooping in at the last minute.

Of course, Luke honoured his promise to Yoda and went back to complete his training, only for Yoda to croak five minutes later.  Lucius pretended he wasn’t upset about that, because while it was perfectly acceptable for the thirteen-year-olds (and the  _ Goyles _ ) to be sniffling and wiping tears from their cheeks, he wasn’t about to cry in public.  He thought Hermione knew, though, because she briefly reached over and touched his knee.  He patted her hand and went back to pretending he didn’t care about the little pointy-eared frog man.

From there, it all seemed to go downhill again, with the revelation that there was a second Death Star under construction, and the Emperor himself arriving to inspect it.  Lucius’s lip curled and he reared back with hatred and disgust when the Emperor appeared--he’d struck Lucius’s ‘Dark Lord’ nerve, and he no longer had any tolerance for Dark Lords, after personal experience with one.

‘It’s okay,’ Hermione whispered, her breath tickling his ear, tempting him with her close range to forget himself.  ‘He’s going to be killed in the end, don’t worry.’

He settled a little, his hackles lowering.  ‘Luke?’

‘No.  You’ll see.’

He nodded shortly and tried to focus on the screen instead of on her, her close proximity, her body heat, her hair brushing against his shoulder when she turned her head.

Things in the film got icky, though, derailing such thoughts.

‘ _ Leia _ is my sister,’ Luke realised, rather belatedly.

Lucius’s face scrunched with disgust.  ‘ _ Eeeeeewwwwww _ ,’ he moaned aloud, making several students turn and look at him.

‘What?’ one of them asked, carefully polite despite her obvious annoyance.

‘He and his sister  _ kissed _ !’ Lucius said, and made no attempt to hide how grossed out he was.  ‘On the  _ mouth _ !  With  _ tongue _ !’

Pure-bloods were in the habit of marrying their cousins,  _ not _ their siblings--this was too much even for the most dogmatic students in the room, and moans of disgust were heard from more than one student, most of them looking nauseated as they recalled the moment that, at the time, had seemed cute.

Hermione just looked amused.  ‘They didn’t know they were siblings at the time,’ she said reasonably.

‘It’s still gross,’ Lucius insisted.

She didn’t argue the point.

Most of the film was action, or setup for it, which Lucius enjoyed rather mindlessly.  The effects were still amazing, and he let himself be dazzled by them for a while.

Vader was a problem, as always.  Luke turned himself in to him, and continued to insist that there was still good in Vader, that he could turn his life around.  Vader continued to insist the opposite--that it was too late.  As always, this struck too close to home for Lucius, and he was particularly disturbed by the film’s climax, though the students and the Goyles cheered when Vader turned on the Emperor and threw him over the side of a very deep chasm.  The problem for Lucius was that Vader was mortally wounded doing so, and it seemed fitting and right.

Was the only way to truly atone for one’s past actions to die trying to make them right?  To make some heroic, Gryffindor-esque sacrifice?

Should Lucius have died at the Ministry, protecting Hermione?  Or before, at the Battle of Hogwarts?  Would that have made up for everything he’d done?  Was he somehow  _ wrong _ for wanting to live and atone in the manner he’d chosen?  Could he ever truly atone  _ without _ a meaningful death in the service of good?

Most importantly, would Draco be happier and better off if Lucius had died in some foolish, heroic act of bravery for Harry Potter’s side?

‘Hey!’

Lucius jumped, snapping back to awareness.  The classroom was empty but for he and Hermione, and had apparently been so for quite a while, judging by the fact that she was ready to leave, wrapped in her cloak, her full bag hanging off her shoulder, her office locked.  There was a furrow between her brows, her eyes dark with concern as she watched him.

‘Sorry,’ he said, his attempt at a light tone falling utterly flat.

She frowned.  ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said faintly, grimacing at the his failure to conceal how shaken up he was.  He couldn’t seem to lie to her, at least not convincingly.

She came over and felt his forehead, then searched his expression when she found no sign of fever.

‘Did you dislike the films?’ she guessed.

‘No, they were good.’

He managed to sound casual that time, mostly because it was true.  They  _ were _ good films.  It wasn’t the fault of the films that they cut him so deeply.

Hermione stared at him for a moment longer.  ‘Let’s go home,’ she said finally, holding out her hand for him to take.  ‘I have the desire to cook something scrumptious.’

He took her hand without hesitation, something deep inside him relaxing as soon as they touched, and he followed her to the Floo contentedly.  She was actually supposed to be headed to the Burrow for dinner, but she gave no sign that she intended to leave any time soon, and he wasn’t about to remind her.  She didn’t press him for the rest of the evening, making light conversation through dinner and settling in beside him with her piles of homework to mark afterward, merely offering her company.

Lucius was grateful, though he couldn’t bring himself to say so.  He enjoyed her company at any time, but he was especially glad for the distraction from his unhappy thoughts, and rather touched that she’d stayed with him, sacrificing an evening with her friends without making him ask.  He didn’t work on the five questions he was supposed to write about  _ Return of the Jedi _ , though, and she didn’t say anything about them.  He didn’t want to think about anything even remotely related; she seemed content to let him read  _ Peter Pan _ and pretend he had nothing more constructive to be doing.

‘Where were you?’ Draco said without preamble when he returned from the Burrow.  ‘You didn’t tell anyone you weren’t coming!’

Hermione shot Lucius a sidelong glance that he pretended not to notice.  ‘I had something more pressing to attend to,’ she said simply.

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘Ginny and I were going to ask you if you’d go on a double-date with us this week-end,’ he said, changing the subject, because even  _ he _ had learnt by then that Lucius and Hermione could seldom be pried apart when they wished to be together.  ‘One of her teammates is keen on you, and they don’t have a match this week.’

Lucius stiffened, though he tried not to, and stared very intently at his book.

‘Thanks, but no,’ Hermione said calmly.

His muscles slowly relaxed when nothing more was forthcoming.

‘You sure?’ Draco pushed.  ‘He’s very nice.  Ginny likes him.  A lot.’

There was an edge to that, and Lucius suddenly understood why Draco was pushing for the double-date when he knew Lucius had spoken for Hermione--at least privately.

‘I’m sure.’

Exasperated, Draco threw up his hands.  ‘Fine--your loss,’ he said shortly, and left.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head.  ‘Like I need help getting dates,’ she grumbled.

Lucius finally abandoned the pretext of reading, looking at her curiously.  ‘They do this often?’

‘They used to,’ she said, shrugging.  ‘I thought they’d got the hint by now, but it seems Ginny was just recruiting Draco to the cause.’

He tilted his head.  This was dangerous territory, and he would need to be very,  _ very _ careful--but he burned with the need to know.

‘Aren’t you interested in dating?’ he asked cautiously.

Hermione shrugged again, unhappily.  ‘I guess.  It’s not a top priority for me,’ she said, and she was avoiding his eye.  ‘What about you?’

‘My options for romantic evenings are rather limited at the moment,’ he said with a wry smile.  ‘It’s not so much dating as inviting a woman back to my place, which she might take the wrong way.’

Although she hadn’t so far.  Still, he considered a date to be an evening out, and while they had dined out, Draco had paid, and Lucius hadn’t declared his intentions ahead of time, so he didn’t count that time.  Plus, the trip to St Mungo’s beforehand didn’t really set the mood properly, even if it  _ was _ for a routine physical.

Hermione smiled.  ‘Fair enough.’

He drew a breath.  ‘Your past experiences didn’t…turn you off to the idea, did they?’

She raised a brow.  ‘Did Narcissa leaving you turn  _ you _ off to the idea?’

He smiled sheepishly.  ‘Fair enough,’ he echoed, and then decided to come clean.  Well, partially.  ‘I’m just curious about your past experiences with love, and I’m not asking terribly well, I suppose.’

Hermione stared into the middle distance, frowning faintly.  ‘They were okay,’ she said finally.

He blinked at her.

She sighed, setting down her quill.  ‘I don’t think I ever really loved Ron as more than a friend, anymore than he loved me as more than a friend.  It was a hard time for both of us, on the search for the Horcruxes, and I think we confused all that hardship and how close and united the three of us were with deeper feelings.  It just took us a while to figure out that we were clinging to each other because we wanted someone familiar, someone we cared about very much, but that it wasn’t romantic love, and it wasn’t a good idea.  We’ve been on better terms ever since we decided to just be friends.  That chapter of our lives is over, and we’re both happier for it.’

That prickle of jealousy faded away into nothing.  Lucius could read Hermione very well by now, and she meant everything she’d said.  She knew Ron well enough that he believed her when she said the boy no longer felt anything more than friendship for her, if he ever had.  There was no threat to Lucius’s suit from that quarter.

‘What about Viktor Krum?’ he said, suddenly remembering, and he felt a wave of hostility toward him, even though he hadn’t been back to the British Isles since the Tournament.  That didn’t mean he never would, and Harry had mentioned that he and Hermione still exchanged letters from time to time.  Lucius bristled at the mere thought--Krum was a powerful young wizard, but he wasn’t intimidated.  He would defend his claim on Hermione if necessary, and he believed he stood a good chance of winning, once his wand was restored to him.

Hermione’s smile was a little sad.  ‘Oh, I was in love with him back then.  Or at least I thought I was,’ she amended.  ‘I was only fifteen.  But…we weren’t right for each other, either.’  She paused for a long while, staring at the hearth.  ‘When the war started, Viktor wrote and asked me to come to Bulgaria and marry him.  I told him I would,  _ after _ we defeated Vol….’  She glanced at Lucius, grimacing.

‘After you defeated V….’  Lucius winced.  ‘ _ Voldemort _ ,’ he choked out, and it still hurt to say it.

She stared at him with open surprise, but slowly, she smiled, and it was the warm smile that melted him through and through.  He instantly felt as though saying the dreaded name had been worth it, and he would say it over and over for the rest of his life if only she would keep looking at him like that.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly.  ‘After we defeated Voldemort.’

He managed to keep from cringing too badly.  She shifted until her feet were in Lucius’s lap again, and he immediately rewarded her with a foot massage.

‘Viktor was not satisfied with that answer.  He wasn’t willing to wait for me,’ she went on, looking slightly sad, the hurt distant and faint now.  ‘He married Angelique that December.’

‘What an idiot,’ Lucius scoffed.

Hermione grinned, pleased by the assertion.  ‘Well, we’re still friends, but that ship has long since sailed.’

He was extremely relieved to hear it.

‘Now my turn.’

Lucius froze momentarily.  He hadn’t prepared any speeches about how, while he still cared about his ex-wife, he was no longer in love with her, and he still cherished the memories they had together, but he was glad she’d found happiness with someone new, and he wanted to sound eloquent and not hesitant so that Hermione would believe him, because it was true, he didn’t love Narcissa anymore, he loved  _ her _ ….

‘When we were watching the first film, you said that things must happen when it is time for them to happen,’ Hermione said, looking at him seriously.  ‘Where did you hear that?’

He blinked.  Well, all right then.  Not at all the question he’d been expecting, but he would take it.

‘I didn’t hear it anywhere,’ he said, bewildered.  ‘It’s just true.  At least in stories.  In stories, the princess has to be rescued sooner or later.  Dark Lords must be defeated, princesses must be rescued, and good must triumph over evil, each in their time.’  He paused, tilting his head.  ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Oh, no reason in particular,’ she said with a peculiar smile, and he could tell she was lying.  ‘It just sounds like something a hero once said, that’s all.’  The peculiar smile grew even more so, and she looked at him.  ‘Remind me to lend you  _ The Last Unicorn _ when you’re through with  _ Peter Pan _ .’

Lucius was very, very confused by now, but he agreed to remind her, and her smile turned warm again.  He chose to bask in it, rather than puzzle out her strange mood--and also to enjoy the knowledge that she had just compared him to a hero, rather than a villain, for the first time that he could recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue taken from Star Wars is, obviously, from Star Wars.
> 
> 'Things must happen when it is time for them to happen' is from The Last Unicorn, when Lir insists that they must face the Red Bull. If you haven't read that book--read it. Immediately.


	23. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco proposes to Ginny. Lucius and Hermione have another misunderstanding, and Hermione agrees to do something she doesn't really want to do. Lucius has a private talk with Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little free time this week, so I figured I'd use it to keep writing, since we're so close to the end. I'm assuming no one minds, after having to wait almost a whole month for the previous chapter....
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for reading, and especially for commenting. I may not be responding much, since I'm busy writing, but rest assured, I do appreciate hearing your thoughts. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! :)

Hermione spent the next couple of weeks very busy, very happy, and very, very guilty.  She caught up on all of the work she’d got behind on while she was out of commission, and she met with Kingsley to give him her findings on living former Death Eaters who were either rehabilitated into society or still in Azkaban, and either way might be willing to talk about any abuses they’d suffered.  Kingsley was extremely pleased to have the list, rubbing his hands together with a wicked grin, and had called Ron in to get a team together and start interviewing.  That dealt with, Hermione had caught up on the rest of the homework she’d needed to mark, and got in touch with Mandy Brocklehurst to get back up to speed on that project, so she felt that professionally, at least, she was back on track.

In her personal life, however, she was being very, very,  _ very _ bad.  She spent nearly all of her free time with Lucius, barring infrequent appearances at the dinners at the Burrow and Grimmauld Place.  Worse, she found reasons to touch him and be close to him, justifying each little thing as something a friend might do.  She’d never been a very good liar, though, and it was especially difficult to lie to herself--she knew that she was indulging herself because she loved him, and he loved her.

And it was  _ bad _ .

The problem was that once she started, it was incredibly difficult to stop.  The only way to avoid any inappropriate behaviour with Lucius was to avoid him entirely, and she could not bring herself to stay away from him.  Lucius was a temptation, like a slice of chocolate cake when you were on a diet.  He drew her in with his intoxicating scent, inviting her seemingly innocent touches with his shy attempts at affection.  He clumsily inquired about her love life and her preferences in men, dropping hints regarding his own preference for her--hints that would have been subtle, if she hadn’t already known.  She tried not to react to them.

The worst part was that he kept complimenting her, slyly dropping in mentions of how kind she was, how sweet she was, into the normal course of his conversation.  She hated the compliments, because they made her feel even worse.  She felt like a terrible, terrible person.  When she ought to have been trying to cool him toward her, here she was, fanning the flames, teasing him, almost leading him on.

But she could not stop.  She hated herself for it.

The next best solution Hermione could think of to keep her behaviour under control was to involve other people.  It was much easier to keep her distance from Lucius--physically and emotionally--when Draco was around, and at the dinner parties when there were lots of Weasleys in the room.  Following this logic, she invited Harry and Ron to join her and Lucius and Tibby on Valentine’s Day when they complained about not having dates.

‘Hang out with you and Malfoy and a house elf?’ Ron repeated, his jaw slack.

She raised a brow.  ‘Is that a problem?’

‘No, but….’  He groped for words.  ‘What will we  _ do _ ?’

Harry nodded his agreement.  ‘Even sitting around watching romantic comedies and eating Ben & Jerry’s would be preferable to staring at Lucius and his house elf while they stare back at us, Hermione.’

She rolled her eyes.  ‘We’re not going to just sit and stare at one another.  I’m teaching Lucius and Tibby how to play Risk.’

Ron blinked.  ‘Risk?’

‘Yes, it’s a game where you try to take over the world,’ she said nonchalantly.

The boys exchanged a glance.  ‘We’re in!’

She smiled.  ‘I thought you might be.’

Hermione had actually been dreading Valentine’s Day ever since Draco announced that he intended to ask Ginny to marry him on the occasion.  Ginny was still lukewarm on the subject, uncertain of how deeply she felt for Draco, and Mrs Weasley had really been putting on the pressure.  Hermione wasn’t convinced that Draco was going to get a positive response, but he’d resisted all of her hints and cautious attempts to convince him that it was too soon.  It didn’t help that Ginny had cancelled the one time, but after that, she’d resumed their normal level of intimacy, giving Draco no indication that he shouldn’t be moving full speed ahead.  Even the jealousy over the teammate hadn’t lasted long.

Draco was heading out in his finest dress robes when the trio arrived.  He looked like a nervous wreck, and kept aborting the motion when he went to run a hand through his hair to work off some of his anxious energy.

‘How do I look?’ he blurted as soon as they were fully emerged from the Floo.  ‘Do I look okay?’

‘You look fine,’ Hermione assured him.

‘Okay, good.  Have fun,’ he added quickly, and disappeared with a pop.

‘What’s he so worked up about?’ Ron wondered.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.  ‘Nothing.’

‘Shall we?’ she added, smiling innocently.

They proceeded into the dining room, where Lucius and Tibby were already waiting.  She saw the disappointment that flared briefly in Lucius’s eyes when he saw Harry and Ron, but he greeted them graciously anyway, offering them some of the refreshments the house elves had laid out.  Ron, of course, took him up on it, and Hermione rolled her eyes as she began setting up, explaining parts of it as she went.

Risk was a complicated game, but fortunately, they were all fairly intelligent beings, so they grasped the rules quickly, although Hermione had found for herself that she’d had to play it a few times before she really got the hang of it.

This was not so for Lucius, Ron, and Tibby.  Harry seemed a bit lost, but he was good-natured about it, cracking jokes and paying only mild attention to what they were doing.  He seemed much more interested in the cheese dip anyway.

Ron had always been good at strategy, so it only took him a few turns to have one worked out.  Hermione, despite being more experienced, quickly found herself taking losses, and it wasn’t long before he’d knocked her out of a whole territory.  She decided to ally herself with Lucius, who had also developed a strategy in a very short time and was holding his own against Tibby.  Tibby, naturally, was ruthlessly grinding them all into the dirt as best she could, her large eyes gleaming with delight.

‘Hey, you can’t do that!’ Ron protested when Hermione threw her lot in with Lucius’s.

Hermione opened her mouth, but it was Lucius who answered, smirking smugly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

‘There are no rules against forming an alliance,’ he said silkily.  ‘Hermione is perfectly within her rights.’

Ron gaped for a moment longer.  ‘Hey, Harry, join up with me?’

Harry shrugged.  ‘Yeah, okay.’

He was absolutely no help, though, and actually lost Ron Alaska, much to his evident frustration.

Tibby, too, was suffering some frustrations.  Her underhanded tactics didn’t make much difference in this game, where so much depended on the roll of the die.  She began to pout when she realised she was losing, but she didn’t leave.

‘I don’t like this game,’ she said, sulking.

‘We can play Candy Land next time,’ Hermione said soothingly.  ‘You’ll like that much better.’

Tibby’s ears perked up again and she took her continuing defeat with greater equanimity after that.

Despite her alliance with Lucius, Hermione continued to fall into decline, and was finally pushed off the map when Harry got lucky in Great Britain.

‘Home field advantage,’ he said, grinning.

‘I’m from Great Britain, too, idiot,’ Hermione shot back, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t help a smile.

Harry just continued to grin, looking pleased with himself.

Hermione sat back and watched, sipping her pumpkin juice.  Harry was forced to fold not long after, and he joined her in watching, although most of his attention remained fixed on the cheese dip.

‘What?  It’s really good,’ he said defensively when he caught her staring.

She sighed and shook her head.

Tibby was the next to go, and she left after pronouncing it the dumbest game ever, although she didn’t seem to be angry with any specific person, just the game, fortunately.

Ron and Lucius proceeded to duke it out from there.  Ron had most of the Western Hemisphere, Great Britain, and South Africa, some of which he’d ‘acquired’ from Harry when he decided he no longer needed his ally.  Lucius owned the rest of the board, and he remained cool and calm while Ron grew more and more frustrated at his lack of success.

‘This is all your fault, you know,’ he told Hermione accusingly.  ‘If you hadn’t been allied with him, I’d be beating him.’

‘We can have a rematch another time,’ Lucius said distractedly, studying his troops and rubbing his index finger back and forth along his lower lip in a way that made Hermione squirm.

Ron just snorted and folded his arms.

They never got to see who would have won, though, because Draco returned from his date a little while later--alone.

Hermione gasped and leapt out of her seat as soon as he appeared in the doorway.  ‘Oh, Draco, are you okay?’ she cried.  ‘What happened?’

Draco’s face was drawn and pale, his mouth folded inward until it looked like he had no lips or teeth, his eyes flat and shiny.  It took him a while to retrieve his mouth enough to answer.

‘She said no,’ he croaked, and shuffled away from them.

Hermione and Lucius followed him at a run, blocking him at the stairway.

‘She said no?’ Lucius pressed, reaching out to touch Draco’s shoulder.  ‘Did she say why?’

Draco shied from the touch.  ‘No.’  His chin quivered and he looked away from them.  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.  I just want to go to bed.’

Lucius studied him for a moment longer, and finally stepped aside.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly.  ‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me.’

Draco gave a wobbly nod and continued toward his room.

Hermione held her breath as Lucius watched him go.  Only after his son was out of sight did Lucius turn to her, and she took an involuntary step back at his expression.  His face was hard and cold, his eyes sharp.

‘You knew,’ he said flatly.

Hermione hesitated.  ‘I suspected.  Ginny is confused right now.  She doesn’t know what she wants.  I tried to talk Draco out of asking her yet, but….’

She trailed off.  Lucius had tilted his head and was studying her like some interesting species of insect he’d not previously encountered.  She felt like something inside of her was crumbling, making her breath hitch.  He hadn’t looked at her so coldly in a long, long time.  Suddenly, she very much didn’t want to hear whatever he was going to say.

She turned on her heel and walked away from him as quickly as she could.  Fortunately, Harry and Ron had already gathered their things, apparently feeling that Draco would want to be alone.

‘Let’s go,’ she said, and she didn’t recognise her own voice.

Lucius didn’t come after her, not even to say goodbye, and she told herself that it was for the best.  It would be much easier to distance herself from him and avoid him if he was angry with her.

She tried not to think about the possibility that he might hate her now.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and cry for a little while when she got home, but she talked herself out of it.  She didn’t really have anything to cry about yet (that she knew of).  More importantly, Ginny was probably in desperate need of someone to talk to, even if she didn’t need any consolation.

Decided, she dropped off her belongings, changed into her most comfortable Muggle clothes (she was going to pamper herself in one respect, at least, to try to feel better), and headed over to Ginny’s.  She fully expected to be offering a sympathetic ear.

She got a good deal more than that.  Ginny was sitting on the floor in her beautiful evening dress, bawling her eyes out and eating straight out of a tin of biscuits.

Hermione paused a moment to absorb this.

‘Oh…Ginny,’ she said softly, and sat beside her, loosely putting an arm around her.

Ginny immediately buried her face in Hermione’s shoulder, weeping pitifully.

‘Talk to me,’ Hermione urged gently, rubbing her friend’s back.  ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘Well,’ Ginny began, hiccuping out sobs every few words and sniffling.  ‘We went to dinner.  An-and it was lovely.  And Draco to-took me out to the park where we like to sit and talk when it’s w-warm enough.’

She had to stop for a moment to try to compose herself again, as fresh tears had begun at the mere mention of Draco’s name.

‘Then he got down on one knee, and he had this ring box, and I knew he was going to ask me to marry him, so before he could even ask, I told him no, and I told him to take me home,’ she sobbed out in a rush.

Hermione let the distraught young witch cry for a while after that admission.  She had expected Ginny to need to talk, regardless of whatever decision she made, but she hadn’t expected her to be so upset.  Naturally, being of a practical nature herself, Hermione expected Ginny to stand by her answer, no matter what it was, and to have reasons for doing so.  She was rather nonplussed to find Ginny so upset over telling Draco she wouldn’t marry him.

‘Why are you so upset?’ she asked as gently as she knew how.  ‘If you didn’t want to marry him, then….’

Ginny let out a rather awful noise.  ‘I just wanted things to stay the same!  Why did he have to ruin it?!’

She considered how best to answer that question.  Then she decided that there was no best way to talk about this and just plunged ahead.

‘Because he loves you,’ she said firmly.  ‘He wants to spend his life with you.  When people feel that way about each other, marriage is generally the next step.  Of course, it works out better when both parties feel the same way.’

‘But we were having so much fun!’ Ginny wailed.  ‘Why do we have to get married?  I don’t want to get married!’

Hermione frowned.  ‘Well, lots of people do stay together without getting married.  But, Ginny, getting married doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to stop having fun.  In fact, the best, most successful marriages involve a  _ lot _ of fun--and not just in the bedroom,’ she added quickly when Ginny started to smirk a little through her tears.  ‘Why are you so against getting married?  Is it a political statement?’

Ginny snorted.  ‘Get real.  Like I care about that nonsense.’

She sat up a little, wiping her face on the hem of her dress.

‘Then why are you so opposed to marrying Draco?’  Hermione’s frown deepened.  ‘Don’t you love him?  If you don’t love him, you’ve been awfully unfair to him.’

More tears welled in Ginny’s eyes and her chin wobbled.  ‘No, I  _ do _ love him.  Nobody makes me smile like he does.  And he’s so sweet, and…I just love him.’  She heaved a wavery sigh.  ‘I just don’t like how everyone just automatically  _ assumed _ we were going to get married and start popping out kids, just because we’d gone on a few dates.  And just because I love him, I don’t…that doesn’t mean I know if I want to spend the rest of my life with him.’  The tears spilled over.  ‘I don’t know what I want, I’m so confused!’

Hermione opted not to state the obvious--that Ginny needed to sort that out as soon as possible--and instead handed her a handkerchief.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Ginny was morose and withdrawn for several weeks after that.  She spent most of her time when she wasn’t doing her job moping around either Hermione’s flat or her own, and she refused to go to any more of the weekly dinners, stubbornly avoiding her mother and anyone else who wanted to question her.  Hermione indulged her, partly because she thought Ginny needed the quiet time to sort out her confused emotions, and partly because she had a lot of time to fill, now that she was avoiding Malfoy Manor at all costs.

Lucius had remained cold and distant before, during and after class the next day, so Hermione had taken that as her cue to back off--particularly when he was the first out the door when she dismissed the students, not waiting around to talk to her like he always did.  It--saddened her, and she refused to use any stronger word for it than that, but she respected his wishes.  When she’d been keeping Ginny’s confidence, she’d known she risked hurting both Draco and Lucius in the long run, but she hadn’t been able to do any more than drop hints about Ginny’s indecision about Draco and maintain a clear conscience.  Ginny had told  _ her _ , privately, no one else, and Hermione couldn’t break that trust, no matter how much it hurt.

Respecting his wishes didn’t mean she had to torture herself, though, so she avoided looking at him, even in class, and refused to call on him when he raised his hand, pretending he wasn’t there.  She even missed his 100 Days Left mark, although she spent the entire evening itching to go to him.  She didn’t think she could bear to show up and be asked to turn right back around and leave.

Both Ginny and Hermione briefly broke their moratorium on social visits for Ron’s birthday party, but they didn’t stay long, because Draco had been invited, and he was chatting casually with several other women, and Ginny had been in grave danger of bursting into tears in the middle of the party.  Hermione had made their excuses to Ron, wished him a happy birthday, and whisked Ginny back to her flat, where she promptly cried her eyes out.

‘I wish you’d go on a date with Gerard,’ she said stuffily when she’d finished crying.

Hermione looked up briefly from her organising.  ‘Who’s Gerard?’

‘My teammate, remember?’ Ginny said sharply, rolling her eyes.  ‘He met you at the Malfoys’ ball, and danced with you?’

She blinked.  ‘I don’t remember him,’ she said after a moment, shrugging.

‘Well, he’s very keen on you,’ Ginny persisted.  ‘At least  _ one _ of us should be happy.’

Hermione snorted.  ‘Dating a Quidditch player who danced with me once and who I don’t even remember is not going to make me happy.’

‘I didn’t say it would make  _ you _ happy.   _ I _ would be happy if you went out with him.’  Ginny pouted.  ‘Please?’

‘No.’

She made the pout bigger.  ‘Please?  Just once?  For me?   _ Pleeeeease _ ?’

‘No.’

Ginny tossed down her handkerchief in disgust.  ‘Oh, come  _ on _ , Hermione!  It’s not like Lucius is banging down your door demanding to marry you this instant!’

That stung.  Hermione looked away, smarting.

But…she couldn’t exactly deny it.  Lucius had made no effort to speak to her since Draco’s disastrous proposal.  She wasn’t sure he would ever forgive her, and she regretted keeping Ginny’s confidence a little more each day.  If she’d come clean with Draco, then he never would have tried to propose, and all four of them would be much happier.

Perhaps a date would cheer both her and Ginny up.  It was unlikely, but it was possible.

‘ _ One _ date,’ she agreed grimly.  ‘And then I don’t want to hear another word about it.’

Ginny clapped her hands, grinning.  ‘Yay!  I’ll find out when he’s free and set you up.’

Hermione just rolled her eyes and returned to her organising.  Ginny returned to her magazines, humming happily to herself.

Toward evening, an owl arrived and landed on Ginny’s knee.  Hermione’s breath caught as she recognised the Malfoys’ eagle owl.

Ginny recognised it, too, and immediately scowled, taking the note and shooing the bird.

‘Ginny!  It’s not the bird’s fault,’ Hermione scolded, and offered the poor thing a treat and some water.

Once the owl was happily munching, she turned around and found that Ginny had paled, staring at the note with her lips pressed together.

‘What is it?’

Ginny just shook her head and held the note out to her.  Hermione took it and read quickly.

_ ‘Dear Miss Weasley, _

_ I would be most obliged if you would call on me on Monday, at three o’clock.  I wish to speak with you about something, privately, if you are willing. _

_ Draco will not be on the premises at that time, you have my word. _

_ Please respond regarding your intention. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Lucius Malfoy’ _

Hermione stared at the note in consternation.  Lucius didn’t possibly think he could bully Ginny into marrying Draco if she didn’t want to, did he?  She knew that Draco’s happiness was Lucius’s top priority at the moment, but the very idea was absurd.

‘What do you think?’ Ginny asked after a moment, her voice wavering.

Hermione thought for a while, then handed the note back.  ‘I would go.  He doesn’t have a wand.  He can’t hurt you.  It can’t hurt to find out what he wants.’

‘What if it’s a trick to get me to talk to Draco?’ she asked darkly.

She shook her head.  ‘Lucius gave his word that Draco wouldn’t be there.  If it was a trick, he wouldn’t have given his word.  Lucius’s moral structure isn’t exactly traditional, but he doesn’t give his word lightly.’

Ginny still seemed uncertain, but eventually, Hermione’s conviction and her own curiosity stirred her enough to write a quick affirmative and send it with the owl.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had spent the last several weeks completely miserable.  The first of his problems was Draco, who was unbearably whiny in his  _ better _ moods.  Lucius tolerated it and tried to be there for Draco, since he actually had a good reason for being so horribly mopey this time, but he also fervently hoped that it would let up soon.  Draco also was taking up with witches he normally wouldn’t give the time of day, which was a great cause for concern.  Lucius held his tongue, and hoped that this, too, would pass shortly.

The second problem was Hermione.  His knee-jerk reaction of lashing out at  _ her _ because of Ginny’s actions seemed to have done irreparable damage to their relationship--quite the opposite of his goal of gaining her love.  He’d remained angry for the first several days, and when he finally cooled off and started to pay attention again, he found that Hermione had stopped coming over at all, and that she was assiduously pretending he didn’t exist when she did have to see him.  He couldn’t exactly blame her--she hadn’t deserved his coldness toward her, as all she’d done was keep a friend’s confidence.  And she  _ had _ tried to warn Draco that Ginny wasn’t going to be receptive to his proposal.  It certainly wasn’t her fault that Ginny didn’t want to marry his son.  It wasn’t really anyone’s fault; it was just one of those sad things that happened sometimes.  All Lucius wanted now was for Draco to heal and move on, and to have Hermione back.  The problem with that was that at the end of every class, Hermione went into her office and shut the door, and Lucius couldn’t seem to work up the nerve to go and knock.  He was too terrified of the all-too real possibility that she might answer with ‘Go away.’

Besides, he needed most of his courage for the third problem that was making him miserable: Ginny.  With all this time to think, Lucius had had to face his last major offence that he had not atoned for.  He hadn’t done anything to try to apologise to Ginny for giving her… _ Voldemort’s _ diary, directly resulting in her possession by him for significant chunks of time.  A part of him wondered if he wasn’t the reason, or at least a little segment of the reason, that Ginny hadn’t wanted to marry Draco, whether she realised it or not.  Marrying the son of the man who’d nearly got you killed when you were only eleven was an uncomfortable situation at best.  That made him feel guilty, naturally, because it meant he was partly responsible for his son’s current suffering, which was not something he’d ever wanted to happen again.

However, even assuming that it  _ hadn’t _ figured into Ginny’s reasons for refusing Draco, Lucius still felt horrible about it.  He’d directly endangered a child without even turning a hair, simply because she was a Weasley.  Just like he’d been willing to  _ kill _ her and the other children--children Draco’s age, his peers--to lay hands on that stupid prophecy.  His priorities had been seriously skewed, and his moral compass had clearly been broken, and it shamed him to remember it.  He owed Ginny a great deal regardless of the rest of the circumstances of their lives.

When he’d first considered it, he had thought that if Draco and Ginny went their separate ways, he could simply find some anonymous way to help her, and that would be enough.  Now, he knew it wasn’t.  The debt gnawed at his insides, rubbed irritatingly at the edges of his mind, and he’d realised that he must confront her directly.

Lucius had sent her the note before he could lose his nerve on that, too, and was both pleased and terrified to receive a positive response--a very short one, that simply said, ‘Mr Malfoy, Yes, I will call on you at that time. G.W.’ but still, it was a step toward his goal.

On Thursday, Hermione glanced at him once, but he couldn’t read her expression, and then she went back to pretending he wasn’t there.  Well.  He’d sort out one problem at a time.  Ginny first, and then Hermione.

Monday loomed large, making him jittery and nervous over the week-end.  Draco finally left to go to some party or other, annoyed with Lucius’s agitated fidgeting interrupting his Byronic brooding.

At long last, the day arrived, and Lucius spent most of the day pacing in the library, rehearsing what he would say when Ginny appeared.  The appointed hour came, and Lucius relocated his pacing to the entrance hall, waiting for her with greater and greater tension as the minutes past three continued to tick by, his breath coming short and his chest tightening as she continued to  _ not appear _ .

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said when she finally appeared with a pop that nearly gave him a coronary--twenty-three minutes past three.  ‘My workout ran over.’

Lucius attempted to smile, though his face felt numb and frozen.  ‘That’s quite all right.’

He escorted her to the sitting room and offered her tea, which she refused, and a chair, which she accepted, perching on the edge and looking up at him with bright, curious eyes, so that she resembled a red songbird.

‘Why did you invite me here, Mr Malfoy?’ she asked once he’d finished playing the dutiful host.  ‘If this is about Draco--’

He shook his head slightly, and she stopped, studying him.  He reminded himself to breathe, standing before her with his hands clasped loosely behind his back.

‘Hermione, then?’ Ginny guessed.

He shook his head again.

She frowned.  ‘Then I haven’t a clue what you want.’

Lucius drew a slow, deep breath that shook despite his best efforts.  ‘You have grievances against me,’ he said, trying to sound firm and confident but not succeeding very well.

Her brows rose.  ‘I do?’

He resisted the urge to growl at her, or smack her upside the head.  She seemed genuinely confused, and he reminded himself to be patient.  Ginny wasn’t the most introspective of people, so it was entirely possible that she hadn’t thought about either incident since they happened, and therefore they weren’t anywhere near the forefront of her mind.

‘The Department of Mysteries,’ he recited flatly, focusing on the wall above her head.  ‘I would have killed you.’

‘Well, you didn’t,’ Ginny said cluelessly.

‘I had every intention of doing so, if it became necessary,’ Lucius shot back sharply, and she subsided.  He took another breath, trying to calm himself.  It was difficult; his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his fingertips.  ‘More importantly, in your first year at Hogwarts, I passed on a certain item to you that…did you a great deal of harm, and nearly resulted in your death.’

His voice was breathless and thin by the time he finished, but now he had said it.

The clock in the hall ticked in the silence.

‘Well, that’s true,’ Ginny agreed.  ‘Did you ask me here just to point that out?’

Lucius glared at her.  ‘I said you had  _ grievances _ .’

This was a word that had meaning to pure-bloods.  A grievance against a wizard was often repaid in blood--or at least with a curse.  Lucius was offering to suffer, perhaps even to die, if Ginny wished it, in reparation for her suffering.

He could see the moment she remembered her heritage and understood what he meant.  Her eyes widened and she paled considerably, staring up at him fearfully.

Lucius slowly lowered himself to his knees before her and spread his empty hands, bowing his head.

‘I am sorry for what I’ve done, Ginevra Weasley,’ he intoned formally.  ‘Do as you will.’

He waited.

And he waited a little longer.

This wasn’t a terribly comfortable position, but he forced himself to wait a little longer still, until finally his still-tender neck couldn’t take it any longer and he had to raise his head.

Ginny was still staring at him, her lips parted and her eyes still wide with shock and fright.  She cleared her throat a few times when she noticed that he was looking at her again.

‘This was not at all what I was expecting,’ she said faintly.

‘Obviously,’ Lucius replied, deadpan.  ‘If you need time to decide, can you please tell me so I can get up for a while?  My knees are killing me.’

That surprised a giggle out of her, and she nodded, waving him toward the sofa.  Gratefully, Lucius climbed to his feet and sat down.  He’d been kneeling there for over twenty minutes, and though he was nearing the end of his battery of potions, he still suffered pains from time to time.  Thankfully, they were growing fewer and farther between, but that didn’t mean he was safe to sit or stand in odd positions for extended periods of time just yet.

‘I don’t want to do anything to you,’ Ginny said finally, propping her chin on her hand.  ‘For one thing, I’m not that kind of girl--murder and mayhem aren’t my style.  For another, Hermione would  _ kill _ me if I hurt you.’

Lucius sighed.  ‘I somehow doubt that,’ he said quietly.  Then, more loudly, ‘You don’t  _ have _ to do anything if you don’t want to--they’re your grievances, not anyone else’s.  But the offer is there if you change your mind.’

She eyed him thoughtfully, and then suddenly smiled--a sly, predatory smile that gave Lucius a chill.

‘I’d actually rather if you owed me twenty favours, which I can call in any time I want,’ she said smugly.

He inclined his head, slightly relieved.  ‘Fair enough.  Twenty favours.  But,’ he added sternly, ‘the offer still stands.’

‘Twenty favours  _ and _ I get to murder you without going to prison if you make me angry?  I can live with that,’ she said jokingly.

They shook on it, and Lucius immediately felt as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders.  He took a deep breath and was surprised when there was no hitch or catch, no limitation at all.  He could breathe freely for the first time in far too long.

‘So…about Draco,’ Ginny said hesitantly after a moment.

Lucius watched her struggle with herself, her face twisting.

‘How is he?’ she finally managed.

He hesitated.  ‘He’s…coping,’ he half-lied.

Draco  _ was _ coping, just not very well, in Lucius’s opinion.

Ginny accepted that with a nod.

‘Okay,’ she said, and that was all.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘I don’t understand wizards sometimes,’ Hermione said.

‘Neither do I,’ Ginny agreed, shrugging.

Hermione had patiently listened to Ginny’s explanation about ‘grievances’ and the very, very old wizarding traditions around them, and the best sense she could make out of it was that it was similar to the old idea of a weregild.  Except, instead of getting something useful like money or indentured servitude, wizards apparently just liked to murder or torture one another, consequence-free.

‘So that’s all Lucius wanted?’ she pressed, still a bit incredulous.  ‘He just wanted to offer to let you kill or maim him?’

Ginny shrugged again, swirling her tea.  ‘Apparently.  He didn’t ask me about Draco, or you, or anything else.  He just wanted to apologise for almost murdering me twice, the extremely old-fashioned way.’

Hermione couldn’t resist an eyeroll.  She tried to respect pure-blood traditions and customs--she really did--but this tendency to bloodthirst in the old ways was, frankly, ridiculous and more than a little disturbing.  It was no wonder that Lucius’s automatic response to Muggles and Muggle-borns was ‘Kill them all!’  He and the other pure-bloods were predisposed to murder, apparently, given that it seemed to be their ancestors’ response to everything.

‘So I spoke to Gerard,’ Ginny said abruptly, grinning.  ‘He’s really excited to go out with you.’

‘Great,’ Hermione said, trying her best to sound pleased.

‘He’s free this Saturday, so if  _ you’re _ free, too, then can I tell him you’ll have dinner with him?’

Hermione repressed a sigh.  Ginny really did look chipper and excited, without a trace of sorrow, for the first time since Valentine’s.  She couldn’t deny her friend a little joy--and she  _ had _ agreed to go on  _ one _ date with him.  Just  _ one _ wouldn’t kill her, and then hopefully Ginny would be pleased for a while, and she could go back to silently pining for Lucius.

‘I’m free, so yeah, go ahead,’ she said, nodding and pasting a smile on.

‘Great!’ Ginny cried, and there was something victorious in the way she ripped open another packet of sugar.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

On Tuesday, Hermione kept to her new routine--or she tried to.  When she went to shut the door to her office after dismissing her class, there was a very loud yelp.  The door ricocheted back to reveal Lucius rubbing the foot he’d jammed in the doorway to stop it.

‘You’re too fast,’ he complained, wincing.

Hermione bit her lip.  This undoubtedly wouldn’t improve matters between them.  ‘I’m sorry--I didn’t know you wanted to speak with me.  Are you hurt?’

‘No, I’m not hurt,’ Lucius said, straightening, nevertheless adopting a wounded expression.  ‘And you would have known I wanted to talk to you if you would have looked at me even once during class.  I was holding up a sign that said “Can we talk after class?”’

She choked out a laugh.  ‘You’re joking!’

‘No, I’m quite serious.’  He tilted his head.  ‘I got a lot of  _ very _ odd looks from some of my neighbours.’

She grinned despite herself.  ‘Well, I’m sorry about that, too.’  She hesitated briefly.  ‘Would you like to come in?’

Lucius’s eyes gleamed.  ‘Certainly,’ he said smoothly.

She stepped aside to let him pass and waved him to a chair.  She sat across the desk from him, watching him look around her office curiously.  It occurred to her that Lucius had never set foot in her office before, and she was suddenly conscious of the old, stained teacups sitting on messy stacks of books and the jumper she’d completely forgotten about tossed over another chair, this one filled with more books because if anyone tried to sit in it, one of the legs broke off.

‘I don’t spend much time here,’ Hermione said sheepishly.

He turned back to her, raising a brow.  ‘Lately, you have,’ he said pointedly.

She forced her expression to go blank and focused on a point just over his shoulder.  ‘Actually, I’ve been with Ginny.  She’s been in need of support.’

‘Ah.’

Lucius said nothing further, drumming his fingers on the armrest.  Agitated, Hermione shifted and frowned.

‘And besides, I was under the impression that my presence was unwelcome,’ she added, unable to keep a slight tremor out of her voice.

The drumming stopped.  Lucius leaned forward, and a beat of silence passed between them.

‘Hermione, look at me, please,’ he requested quietly, his voice taking on that velvety quality she had never been able to resist.

She met his eyes, and was surprised to find that, rather than angry or annoyed or cold, he looked remorseful.

‘I’m sorry I was so cold to you,’ he said before she could gather the breath to speak.  ‘I was angry on Draco’s behalf, but it wasn’t your fault.  You were keeping a friend’s confidence.  I know I would never want you to go round blabbing things I’ve told you privately, and I appreciate that you tried your best to stop Draco from asking without breaking trust with Ginny.  I would never have you act against your sense of integrity,’ he added with a faint, fond smile.  ‘I’m sorry I lashed out at you.  I want you around, if you’ll consent to come.  Can you forgive me?’

Hermione was taken aback.  She’d been half expecting Lucius to take her to task, not a heartfelt apology for his behaviour.  It took her a moment to collect her wits.

‘Of course,’ she said hoarsely, mustering a smile.  ‘All is forgiven and forgotten.’

Lucius’s answering smile was dazzlingly bright, and he sat back with an air of satisfaction.  ‘Good.  Good.  So.’  He shrugged a little.  ‘What have you been up to without me?  I suppose it was frightfully dull, wasn’t it?’

Hermione laughed and shook her head.  ‘Naturally.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione recognised Gerard when he arrived at the restaurant--he’d been particularly inept at the ball, crashing them into other couples on no less than three occasions.  He  _ had _ managed to keep off of her feet, but she regarded that as a small accomplishment.  Still, he was very sweet, and very handsome, and she did her best to have a good time.

The problem was that he wasn’t Lucius.  The whole time he was trying to explain what, exactly, his job on the team was, she was wishing it was Lucius sitting across from her.  When Gerard tried to tip the waiter on the sly and accidentally ended up putting the Galleons down the poor man’s trousers, Hermione couldn’t help but think that Lucius would never have done something like that, unless of course he  _ meant _ to, but since he wasn’t a fan of making a scene, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever take it into his head to do anything of the sort.  While she watched Gerard eat, her own appetite lost, she reflected that Ron and Gerard should have a contest, and that she never, ever glimpsed the half-masticated remains of Lucius’s food, because he chewed with his mouth shut, and didn’t speak with his mouth full.

Gerard wasn’t particularly interesting, either.  Much like Cormac McLaggen and Oliver Wood, he seemed to think that everyone around him was as obsessed with Quidditch as he was, so it was the topic that made up more than eighty per cent of his conversation.  He didn’t appear to notice when Hermione’s eyes glazed over.

All in all, he would simply never measure up.  He was a nice boy--for someone else.  Hermione already knew who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, so further dates would be a waste of both of their time.  At the end of the date, she politely declined his invitation to his place for a nightcap, said she’d had a good time, and went home.

Fortunately, Ginny was very busy with her own dates all week, so Hermione wasn’t subjected to the third degree right away.   _ Unfortunately _ , she was subjected to the third degree on Thursday evening, at the Malfoys’ dinner table, because Ginny had decided she needed to make an appearance to show how utterly unaffected she was.  She chose a moment when everyone was fairly quiet, and practically shouted across Lucius and Luna.

‘So how was your date on Saturday?’

Hermione resisted the urge to glare as Lucius’s head whipped in her direction, his expression frozen.

‘It was fine,’ she said in a much more reasonable volume, her tone neutral.

‘ _ Fine _ ?’ Ginny repeated.  ‘I’m sure it was more than  _ fine _ with Gerard.  He always knows how to treat a lady,’ she added, with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that Lucius did not miss.

He looked at Hermione with open horror, and she thought she detected the beginnings of hurt and betrayal.  He was valiantly trying to master himself, though, so she pretended not to notice and focussed on Ginny instead.

‘As I said, it was fine,’ she said coolly, not rising to the bait.  ‘We had dinner and we said good night.  It was fine.’

Ginny looked very unhappy with this lack of information, but she subsided, albeit with a sour expression.  She didn’t turn to see Draco’s heartbroken expression, but Hermione saw it and sympathised.

The sitting room turned out to be a valley of thorns, conversation-wise, as everyone wanted to know about the date she hadn’t told them she was having.  She eventually settled in with Bill, Fleur, and Percy, as pregnancy talk and budget reports were much preferable to being grilled about a date that hadn’t even meant anything to her.

At one point, Lucius made eye contact with her from across the room and tilted his head toward the door with a significant look.  She shook her head and deliberately turned away to avoid further eye contact.  She didn’t even want to discuss it with him.  She just wanted to forget it had ever happened.  Well, and she wanted to strangle Ginny.


	24. Overreactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius overreacts to Hermione's date, and does something which causes Hermione to overreact. It takes a power greater than Draco to sort it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the climactic chapter, everybody, so it's going to be pretty rough in a few spots. Just stick with it until the end and I promise you won't want to come after me with pitchforks, because I didn't do a cliffhanger or anything. Also, this is the second-to-last chapter, so I'd like to thank all of you for coming along for the ride. I hope you've had fun. :)
> 
> I'm finished with the last chapter, which just wraps everything up, and only need to do some cleanup work on it, so it will be posted on Monday, barring any unexpected complications. I'm afraid I will have to up the rating one level to Mature when I post that chapter, because Lucius and Hermione got a little frisky. They deserved it, after all I've put them through, I suppose. ;)
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for reading, and especially to everyone who took the time to comment. :) I hope you enjoy!

It was simultaneously harder and easier to avoid Lucius over the week-end--harder because now that they had cleared up their little misunderstanding, Hermione wanted nothing more than to go directly back to spending every spare minute in his company; and easier because she very much wanted to avoid talking about her mediocre date with Gerard, and Lucius was stubbornly refusing to let it be.  She’d spent Friday evening with him, and he spent most of the night demanding to know what had happened and every word that was spoken.  He particularly wanted to know how the date had ended.  Hermione was sympathetic (and a little flattered by his obvious jealousy), but she didn’t want to talk about it, so she just as stubbornly refused.  He had finally let it go, but she could see that his frustration about it was mounting, rather than cooling.  She didn’t know what to say to calm him, so she simply stuck to trying to avoid the topic.

On Saturday and Sunday, Hermione hadn’t had to come up with an excuse not to go to Malfoy Manor, as the Goyles, realising that the Easter holidays were just a month away, had begun to panic and begged her to spend the week-end tutoring them.  They were still doing poorly, but she invented a few extra credit assignments that would be easy for them--she had no intention of failing them, not after they had worked so hard all year.  It wasn’t their fault that they weren’t very intelligent, and she didn’t think a lack of book-smarts was an Azkaban-worthy offence.

Monday, she stopped by for a brief lunch, keeping up a steady stream of her own chatter to forestall anymore questions.  Lucius fumed quietly, and immediately asked if she intended to see Gerard again as soon as she paused for breath.

‘I don’t know,’ she lied.  ‘I’ve got to run.’

She lied because what she really wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and tell him that he didn’t ever need to worry about another man--he was the only one for her, and she loved him, not cute but boring Gerard.  That wasn’t an option yet, so she blurted her lie and fled.

On Tuesday, fleeing was not an option, and Lucius was no longer willing to accept her vague answers and refusals.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius had thought that things were going according to plan.  He’d assured himself that he didn’t need to worry about any other men in her life, she had quickly and easily forgiven him for his flare of temper, and he had a plan to spend the Easter holidays recommending himself as a prospective husband, mostly through stories about how wonderful he’d been to Narcissa.

Then Ginny had dropped a bomb on his head in the form of the news that Hermione had gone on a  _ date _ \--a  _ recent _ date.  A date with a cute Quidditch player.

His initial reaction had been overwhelming hurt and betrayal.  How could she date someone who wasn’t him?  His blood had boiled at the very thought of her with  _ Gerard _ .  But then, sense had intervened and he’d realised that it wasn’t fair to Hermione to expect her to be faithful to him when she didn’t even know that he was interested in her.  He couldn’t exactly blame Ginny for setting her up, either, as it was unlikely that Draco had informed her of Lucius’s intentions before their breakup, given his concern that Lucius proposing to Hermione would spoil the surprise with Ginny.  And of course he wouldn’t have informed her afterward, since they hadn’t spoken since Valentine’s Day.

Instead, he had determined that he must find out exactly what had happened before, during, and after the date, to discover what Hermione had and hadn’t liked, and to reassure himself that her lukewarm response to Ginny’s inquiries meant that she didn’t intend to see Gerard again.  Unfortunately, Hermione was less than cooperative, stonewalling him every time he raised the subject.  His better sense was slowly losing the battle as Lucius’s rage built--rage at the thought that Hermione might be falling for some ham-fisted moron.  It had happened before, with Viktor Krum.

Lucius very firmly believed that Hermione could have any man she wanted, and that she had the right to choose for herself--but he  _ also _ believed that she deserved better than some Quidditch player.  There was a  _ reason _ Lucius had never dedicated himself to the sport as fully as he might have done, and that was that it was overwhelmingly populated with muscle-bound idiots who couldn’t carry on a proper conversation about anything  _ but _ Quidditch.  She deserved someone who could keep her intellectually stimulated, and financially secure, and happy.  Lucius wasn’t certain he fit all of those qualifications, but he certainly fit them better than any Quidditch player!

Still, if she was determined to continue seeing this Gerard, he wouldn’t try to stop her or forbid her--she was a free agent, and perfectly capable of running her own life--but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to convince her that it was a bad choice, and let her know that she had other options.  Options like Lucius, who could and did talk about things besides Quidditch, and who loved her.

With this in mind, Lucius went to class on Tuesday determined to get answers.  He paid little attention to the lesson, too consumed with thoughts of Hermione  _ kissing _ someone else, holding  _ someone else’s _ hand, his heart pounding harder and harder and his ears getting hot.

Finally, class ended, and the students dutifully filed out after receiving their homework assignments.  Lucius let them all pass by and then prowled to the front of the room.  Hermione was trying not to look at him, busying herself with straightening papers and other little fidgety things, but the little glances upward gave her away.

‘Hermione,’ Lucius growled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest with the force of his emotion.

She looked up with a very false smile and wouldn’t meet his eye.  ‘Yes?’ she squeaked out.

‘I want an answer to my question,’ he said lowly, dangerously.  ‘Are you intending to see that  _ boy _ again?’

He watched her throat tighten as she swallowed.

‘His name is Gerard,’ she said in a voice that was mostly calm, though he detected a faint edge of breathlessness.  ‘And he’s not a boy.  He’s twenty-eight.’

Lucius stepped closer to her, towering over her.  ‘Are you intending to see him again?’

Hermione took a step back, her expression closing, and tossed her head, eyeing him narrowly.

‘And what is it to you if I am?’ she demanded archly.  ‘I refuse to be intimidated over my love life, and it is  _ my _ decision if I choose to see him again,  _ not _ yours.’

Desperation made his heart pound even harder, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps, his ears ringing.  He took another step toward her, frantic with the need to convince her.

‘Hermione,’ he said, pleading now.  ‘You can do so much better than that.  You deserve someone who can take care of you, someone who can keep up with you.  Please, don’t see him again.’

She looked away, agitatedly wringing her hands.  ‘What do you know about what I deserve?  It’s none of your business who I--’

‘It  _ is _ my business!’ he cut her off shrilly.

She scowled at him.  ‘Lucius, you’re getting upset, maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right--’

He cut her off with his lips against hers.  It wasn’t at all like he’d imagined their first kiss would be.  It was rough and urgent, more a crushing of mouths together than an actual kiss.  Worse, she didn’t respond, but stood frozen, even when he flicked his tongue across hers, even when he pressed her back against the chalkboard.

Faintly, in the back of his mind, he registered a squeaking noise and a soft thunk, but it wasn’t important enough to disturb him from his task of trying to physically convince Hermione that he was better for her than Gerard.  He wasn’t even thinking right now, he was just desperate for her not to leave him for another man before he’d even had a chance.

The noises must have meant something to Hermione, though, or something else jarred her out of her stupor, because she suddenly shoved him away from her in one quick, powerful move.  Lucius stumbled back three or four steps, breathing heavily, and watched her with his blood rushing in his ears and his entire body trembling.

What he saw made his stomach drop, the world tilting under his suddenly unsteady legs.

She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, staring at him with fear--no, not just fear, but  _ terror _ .  She was terrified as she looked at him.

Lucius’s knees would have buckled if she hadn’t spoken.

‘Get out,’ she breathed.

The pain was a physical thing, right in the center of his gut, knocking the breath out of him.

‘Hermione,’ he started, weakly, helplessly, searching hopelessly for a way to fix this, to undo it.

‘ _ GET OUT _ !’ she screamed at him.

Lucius stumbled backward, reeling as though she had reached out and slapped him.  She continued to look frightened and shocked.  She didn’t take it back, didn’t say that she’d just been startled, that she didn’t mean it, that she was sorry she’d screamed at him.  She just stared at him.

He fled from her.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

It took Hermione a long, long while to recover.  That discussion had not at  _ all _ gone the way she’d thought it would, when she’d been deciding in her head how she would put her foot down and forbid Lucius from interfering with her love life (until June 6, when he finished her class, she had added mentally).  She’d seriously underestimated how upset and jealous Lucius had become over the issue.

And now a student had seen them.

A student had  _ seen them kissing _ .

This was the worst case scenario she’d envisioned when she realised she was in love with Lucius, and it was entirely her fault.  If she’d read Lucius correctly, if she’d soothed his fears back at the manor, where they had some privacy, it wouldn’t have happened.

She considered it her solemn duty to hunt down the student who had seen them--preferably before she could start the gossip chain going.  Hermione knew it had been a female student, and the flash of red she’d seen indicated it was a Gryffindor, but she hadn’t been able to tell which one.  The fact that it was a Gryffindor was worrisome, as they were some of the worst gossips in the whole school, right behind the Hufflepuffs.

Hermione chose not to dwell on her awful handling of the situation, at least not until she’d found the student and prevented the chain of events that could very well result in Lucius being sent back to Azkaban.  She would think about it afterward, and try to figure out how to make amends.

It had been a gut reaction, as all of her fears for Lucius’s safety had come crashing to the forefront of her mind.  She’d been terrified as she thought of him in Azkaban again--in chains--at the mercy of guards who had not yet been investigated and replaced.  It was too late by then, but her instinctive reaction was to send him far, far away from her, where he would be safe.

Naturally, by the time she’d calmed and seen reason, Lucius was long gone, and all she could see in her mind’s eye was the utterly shattered look on his face.

That was the image that haunted her as she made careful inquiries about any Gryffindor students who might have come looking for her after class….

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius did not remember Flooing to the manor, or walking to his room, but suddenly he was standing in the middle of his bedroom, blinking at his writing desk.  He was in pain, he realised faintly, like it was happening to someone else.  Each breath lanced through him like fire, as though he’d been run through and the blade was still lodged in his abdomen.  He had the feeling of being made of crystal, that a light touch might cause him to shatter into a million pieces.

He had been right, he realised.  It brought him no satisfaction.  He hadn’t wanted to be right about this--that nothing he did would ever be enough.  That the changes he had made, the progress, the careful atonement for his sins, were all for nothing, because deep down, no matter how they accepted him on the surface, he would always be the hateful, bigoted Death Eater to everyone he met.

And to Hermione.  She would always be afraid of him, no matter what he did, no matter what he said.

His knees did buckle, then, and he found himself on the floor, gasping for breath.  There were no tears.  He was beyond tears.  He felt only complete and utter devastation.  The candles were lit and the sun was still out, but the room looked dark to him, and he was alone.

He was alone.  He would always be alone, even when he was surrounded with people.

It was this realisation that crushed him, that left him lying on the floor, staring at nothing.

‘Father?’  Draco, searching the house for him.  ‘Father!’

Lucius didn’t even try to answer.  It was too painful just breathing in shallow pants, let alone trying to get enough air to shout.

It didn’t matter.  Draco found him soon enough.

‘Father!’ he cried, running to his side.  ‘What’s happened?  Are you all right?  Are you ill?’

Lucius shook his head mutely, staring at the rug.

Draco gathered him up, pulling his head and shoulders into his lap.  Lucius didn’t resist, nor did he flinch when Draco pointed his wand at him.  Death was still not exactly welcome, but he no longer saw the point in delaying the inevitable.  Draco wasn’t killing him, though (at least not today); he simply did a quick general health spell.

‘You’re not sick,’ he said, plainly baffled.  ‘What happened?  Please say something!’

Lucius remained silent.  There was no point, to any of it.  He deserved to die.  He didn’t want to, but he deserved to.  It was what everyone else wanted.

‘I’ll get Hermione,’ Draco said, panicking now.  ‘She’ll know what to do!’

_ That _ required a response.

‘No,’ Lucius choked out, his entire body resisting the act of speaking.  ‘No.’

Draco gaped at him.  ‘You…don’t  _ want _ me to get  _ Hermione _ ?’

‘No,’ he repeated, and broke out in tremors.

Draco was still holding him, so he immediately felt the tremors.  His confusion only increased, but he finally nodded.

‘Okay, no Hermione.’  He paused.  ‘I’m going to help you get up on the bed, all right?  Are you ready?’

Lucius obediently helped Draco lift him onto the bed, and immediately went limp as soon as he was safely on it.  He didn’t particularly care whether he was on the floor or the bed, but obviously Draco would feel better this way.  He still wanted Draco to be happy.  He wished he could have thought of a way to change Ginny’s mind for him.

While he was wishing for impossible things, he wished Hermione wasn’t afraid of him.

A soft, pained noise bubbled out of him involuntarily, and he hugged himself, curling around the stabbing ache in his gut, squeezing his eyes shut, but he couldn’t blot out the image of her white, terrified face.

‘Oh, Father,’ Draco murmured, sitting beside him, putting a hand on his arm.

Lucius covered his face with his hand and wept.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Hermione kept an ear to the rumour mill, but nothing new popped up about her or Lucius all through Wednesday.  She finally found her quarry at lunch on Thursday--it turned out to be a seventh year girl who was studious and reserved, so Hermione felt a little  _ more _ foolish for her violent reaction.  The girl agreed to continue to not share what she had seen with anyone, as she felt that who anyone was dating wasn’t really anyone else’s business.  Hermione rewarded her by granting her request for an extra credit assignment, even though the girl hardly needed it.

She had skipped the Tuesday and Wednesday dinners, too distraught and tense to deal with that many Weasleys at the moment--or worse,  _ Draco _ .  She couldn’t imagine that Lucius’s mood was very good at this point, so if Draco had chosen to attend either dinner, she would have had to withstand a lecture that she couldn’t emotionally handle at that point.

She felt calmer now, knowing that  _ this time _ , there wouldn’t be any dire consequences for their inappropriate behaviour.  She fully intended to apologise to Lucius for her overreaction, and to inform him that any further romantic overtures would have to wait until June 6, when it would be safe for them to dance naked in the middle of Diagon Alley, if they so desired.

Only, Lucius wasn’t there.  He didn’t arrive at his usual time.  He didn’t arrive late.  His desk remained distractingly, worryingly empty throughout the class period.

An explanation arrived ten minutes after class ended, courtesy of the Malfoys’ eagle owl.

_ ‘Hermione, _

_ My father is unwell.  Please excuse his absence. _

_ Draco _

_ P.S.  What happened?  He’s forbidden me to ask you to come over, and he gets upset when I even suggest it.’ _

Dread pooled in Hermione’s stomach.  This was far worse than she had thought it would be.  Lucius had only missed class once--when he was ordered by the Wizengamot to stay home and not attend class.

Quickly, she grabbed a quill and a scrap of parchment and jotted a response.

_ ‘Draco, _

_ Consider him excused.  I hope he feels better soon. _

_ I can’t explain the full situation on a paper this small.  Please tell him I’m sorry. _

_ Hermione’ _

She sent it off with the owl, trying to calm herself again with her breathing exercises.  It wasn’t working very well.

She didn’t want Lucius to hate her.  That was one of several possibilities that ran through her mind as she considered what Draco could have meant by ‘he gets upset when I even suggest it.’  ‘Upset’ was such a vague term.  Was he angry?  Was he sad?  Was he nervous?  Hermione had no idea how to even try to approach him without more information.

One thing was clear, though, and that was that Lucius wasn’t ready to see her right now, regardless of the reason why.  She decided to wait a while and see if he came around on his own, or if perhaps Draco could convince him to at least go to class, so she’d have a chance to apologise.

Well, grovel, really.  She’d screamed at him and probably made him think that his overture had been entirely unwelcome, when in reality, that was the exact opposite of the truth--it was merely the timing and the setting that she objected to.  She owed him a very large apology for her overreaction--very,  _ very _ large, and she could only hope he would hear her out.  She didn’t expect to be forgiven.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius did not move.  He did not eat.  He didn’t speak.  He lay still, breathing as steadily as he could around the stabbing pain.  Sometimes he slept, and sometimes he stared at nothing.

The first day, Draco had begged and pleaded with him, brought in trays of treats to tempt him, played cheerful music on the wireless, did everything but break into a song and dance routine to try to shake Lucius out of his mood.  But his pleas fell on deaf ears, and Lucius turned away from any food put before him, nauseated by the smell.

The second day, he tried to bully Lucius into moving, shouting at him and threatening him, and even, at one point, physically hauling him out of bed.  Lucius hadn’t made any attempt to catch himself, and Draco had quickly abandoned that tactic.  Out of ideas, Draco had enlisted Tibby and they tried to force-feed him.  Lucius had submitted, and promptly vomited afterward, his stomach violently rejecting the food.

Today was Friday, and Draco was out of ideas, or so Lucius thought.  He was proved wrong that evening.

‘Lucius?’ came a soft, melodic voice.

He nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to look at his visitor as she gently reached out, stroking his cheek with her soft, manicured hand.

‘Narcissa?’ he said, his own voice hoarse and crackling.  ‘What are you doing here?’

Her smile was kind, her eyes full of concern.  ‘Draco asked me to come.  He’s very worried about you.  We all are.’  She chuckled when he raised a brow.  ‘Even Andrew.  He’s downstairs, worrying with Draco.’

He heaved a pained sigh, feeling his ribs ache from the pressure, and settled back down into his pillows.  Everything felt so heavy, all of a sudden.

‘I’m tired,’ he mumbled in a small voice.

Narcissa smoothed his snarled hair back tenderly, and his eyes closed of their own accord.

‘What happened, darling?’ she asked gently.  ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.  We’re still friends, aren’t we?’

His chest hitched painfully.  ‘I’m in love with her,’ he said thickly.  ‘I’m in love with her, and she’s afraid of me.’

Narcissa didn’t answer right away, idly stroking his head.  ‘Hermione?’  She huffed out a soft laugh.  ‘I don’t believe that young lady is afraid of anything.’

He choked on a sob.  ‘She’s afraid of me,’ he said brokenly.  ‘She hates me.  She thinks I’m a monster.’

And he couldn’t exactly argue with that.

‘What happened to give you that impression?’

He opened his eyes with an effort, swallowing to try to keep some measure of composure.  It didn’t work; his voice was still wobbly and thin when he spoke.

‘I kissed her, and she was afraid.  She screamed at me to get out.’

Narcissa frowned thoughtfully.  ‘I don’t understand that.  That doesn’t seem like her.’  She paused.  ‘Not that I know her that well, but something about that doesn’t add up.’

Lucius shrugged and turned away again, hugging himself a little tighter.  She could believe whatever she wished, he didn’t care.

Sighing, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.  ‘Get some sleep, Lucius.  I’ll be back.’

He gripped her arm, suddenly not wanting to be alone.  ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m just going to check on Andrew,’ she said, smiling sweetly.

Ah.   _ Andrew _ .  At the mention of her second husband, Lucius released her.

‘Okay,’ he said dully.

Narcissa reached out and touched his shoulder, her expression pained, but after a moment, she turned and walked out.

Lucius slept.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Of all the heads Hermione expected to see in her fireplace, Narcissa Black’s was not one of them.  She gaped at her for a full minute before Narcissa finally cleared her throat, raising her brows pointedly.

‘Oh!  Sorry, come on through,’ she said quickly.

Narcissa stepped through and performed a quick cleaning charm on herself.  ‘Thank you.’

Hermione shifted uncomfortably.  ‘Please…have a seat.’

She smiled and took the armchair, eyeing Hermione in a way that made her want to sink into the floor.

She cleared her throat.  ‘Um…can I get you anything?’

Narcissa considered.  ‘No, thank you.’

The silence stretched between them.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’ Hermione asked formally, after she finally collected her scattered wits back together.

Narcissa pursed her lips, picking at the fabric of the armrest with her nail.  ‘I am here at Draco’s request,’ she said at last, ‘but on Lucius’s behalf.’  She paused.  ‘Lucius doesn’t know I’ve come to see you.’

Hermione broke out in gooseflesh, her throat suddenly dry.  ‘I see,’ she said quietly.

The older witch tilted her head slightly, continuing to study Hermione intently.  Hermione tried not to fidget.

‘I am struggling to comprehend what exactly possessed you to reject Lucius so brutally,’ Narcissa said evenly, the corners of her mouth twitching downward.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, drawing a deep breath.  ‘What did he tell you?’

‘He told me that he kissed you, and you screamed at him to get out,’ she reported succinctly.  ‘He also told me that he believes you are afraid of him, as he apparently observed such an expression after he kissed you, and that he is in love with you.’

Hermione’s head spun, and she tried not to laugh.  It wasn’t funny, not in the least, but in her moment of dizziness, it seemed ridiculous that they seemed to keep crossing their wires when they both wanted the same thing.

‘I wasn’t afraid of  _ him _ ,’ she said when the world had righted itself.  ‘I was afraid--terrified-- _ for _ him because a student walked in on us.’

Comprehension immediately dawned on Narcissa’s features, but Hermione continued to explain anyway.

‘The girl walked in on us when he had his tongue in my mouth and had me pushed up against the blackboard.  It would have been difficult to misinterpret what was happening,’ she said dryly.  ‘I freely admit that I overreacted.  I couldn’t help it--I just instantly thought of him back in Azkaban, and I panicked.  The damage was already done, but I reacted instinctively to make him leave.  I wasn’t thinking.  Afterward, I went and found the girl who saw us, and she promised that she hadn’t told anyone and had no intention of doing so--but at the time, I had no way of knowing that it wouldn’t all end in disaster.’

Narcissa looked grim.  ‘When did you talk to the girl?’

‘Yesterday at lunch.’

Her brows rose.  ‘And you haven’t tried to contact him since then?’

Hermione sighed.  ‘Draco sent me a note to explain Lucius’s absence from class, and said that he was upset and didn’t want Draco to invite me over.  I assumed that meant Lucius doesn’t want to see me right now.’

‘Only because he thinks you’re terrified of him and think he’s a monster,’ Narcissa replied glumly.

It felt like her heart had dropped into her feet.  ‘I would never think that!’

‘I know that, but Lucius apparently hasn’t figured it out on his own.  He’s been lying in bed since Tuesday night, refusing to move or eat.  You need to go to him, whether he wants to see you or not,’ she said firmly.

Hermione was already moving, and popped out of the entrance hall fireplace running.  She felt as though her chest was crushing inward, squeezing the breath out of her.  She’d never felt so guilty about anything--she should have followed him home, should have apologised immediately and explained, rather than trying to find the girl first.  She should have  _ known _ how hard Lucius would take it, how he would misinterpret her fear.

Draco was emerging from his study, Andrew at his heels.  ‘Hermione!  What are you--?’

She ran past him without a word, dashing up the stairs, taking them two at a time.  She didn’t have any trouble finding Lucius’s bedroom, even though the door was shut; she skidded to a halt and quietly opened the door, peering in cautiously.  Lucius was curled up in a ball, facing away from the door.  She crept in and shut the door behind her, but he didn’t stir.  She rounded the bed and saw that he was sleeping, a frown etched into his face.  He looked pale and sickly again.  There were dark smudges under his eyes, and his muscles were taut even in sleep.

Hermione sighed softly and carefully crawled onto the bed, lying as close to him as she dared.  He didn’t stir until she reached out and pushed a stray lock of hair off of his face, lightly tracing along his cheekbone.  His eyes fluttered open, and his frown deepened as he registered her presence.

‘Hermione?’ he said, hoarse, weak, disbelieving.  ‘What are you doing here?  You can’t really be here, I must be dying.’

She smiled, tugging his hand away from his abdomen and holding it tightly.  ‘I’m really here, and you’d  _ better _ not be dying on me.’

He looked at her with flat, empty eyes.  ‘Why not?  It’s the only way to truly redeem myself.’

‘You  _ have _ redeemed yourself already, Lucius,’ she said sternly.  He snorted, but she didn’t allow him to interrupt.  ‘I know all about what you did for the Thomases, and Luna, and Percy, and everyone else.  Kingsley told me weeks ago.’

‘But you still don’t trust me,’ he said hollowly, looking away.

‘I do,’ she said quietly but firmly.  ‘I would trust you with my life.’

He scoffed, trying to tug his hand out of hers.  ‘I saw your face--you were afraid when I kissed you.’

Hermione held onto his hand stubbornly.  ‘I was, but not  _ because _ of you.  A student caught us kissing, Lucius.’

That pulled him up short, and he stopped trying to get loose, studying her intently.

She nodded grimly.  ‘It turned out that the student in question is not a gossip and has no intention of telling anyone what she saw, but I didn’t know that at the time.  All I knew was that we’d been seen engaging in behaviour that is not at all appropriate for a teacher and her student, and that if it got out….’  She swallowed, trying to blink back the tears welling up.  ‘My greatest fear is something happening to you.  I don’t know what I’d do if….’

She broke off, wiping at her eyes with her free hand.  Lucius remained silent, but his expression had softened and he was returning her grip on his hand now.

‘I’m sorry I yelled at you,’ she sniffled when she felt able to speak again.  ‘I’m sorry I told you to leave.  I was panicking.  I wasn’t thinking.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

He was quiet for a long time, looking at their joined hands.

‘You didn’t kiss me back,’ he said finally, sorrowfully.

Hermione put a finger under his chin, and he obediently raised his eyes to hers, wincing slightly as though he was expecting a verbal confirmation that she didn’t want him.

‘You caught me by surprise,’ she said, smiling.  ‘And it isn’t the right time yet.  On June 6, the  _ instant _ you’ve finished your exam and Draco has put your wand back in your hand, and you’re officially no longer my student, but my  _ equal _ , I will gladly kiss you any time or place that you’d like.’

Hope flared in Lucius’s eyes, but he continued to frown.  ‘Just because I want you to?’

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening.  ‘Because I’m in love with you, you daft idiot.  I would snog you right now, if it wasn’t potentially putting you in danger.’

He stared at her with genuine shock.  ‘You…you love me?’

‘You think I mind meld with just anyone?’ she joked.  ‘Of course I love you.  I’m mad for you.  I can’t get enough of you.’

Lucius continued to blink dazedly, but a smile was slowly spreading across his face.  ‘I’ve been trying to get you to fall for me,’ he said faintly.

Hermione laughed.  ‘Already have, head over.’

He finally recovered from the shock, and she had never before seen him so overjoyed.  He cupped her cheek reverently, looking at her with open adoration.

‘I love you, too,’ he murmured happily.  ‘I’m in love with you.’

She smiled and tried not to tear up again.  She’d already known, but it was different to hear him say it out loud, unreservedly.

‘That works out just dandy, then, doesn’t it?’ she said lightly.  ‘I love you, and you love me.’

‘Wait, then why did you go out with that Gerard fellow?’ Lucius realised suddenly.  ‘If you’re in love with me, how could you go on a date with him?’

She sighed.  ‘I promised Ginny I would.  I didn’t want to, but she’s been an emotional mess ever since Draco’s proposal.  Setting me up made her happy.  But to answer your question, I have no intention of ever seeing Gerard again, outside of watching him play Quidditch alongside Ginny.  I have zero interest in him.  It’s you and only you, from now on,’ she added with conviction.

His smile immediately returned, doubly bright, and he uncurled from the tight ball he’d formed of himself, stretching alongside her with a contented sigh, resting his forehead against hers.  They lay quietly for a long while, basking in the relief of clearing the air, in the joy of having declared themselves to one another and finding out their affections were returned.  Hermione intended to make him eat some broth in a bit, but she was too content to bring it up just yet.

‘June 6, then,’ Lucius sighed happily.  ‘That’s my birthday, you know.’

She grinned.  ‘Really?  I’ll make you dinner.  At  _ my _ place, this time.’

His eyes flashed and he drew her closer.  ‘A lovelier present I can’t imagine.’  He sighed again, pouting a little this time.  ‘It’s only March.  Why does it have to be so far away?’

Hermione had some insecurities of her own, and she couldn’t help it when she stiffened.  ‘Is that a problem?’ she asked softly.

‘Of course not,’ he said easily.  ‘I can wait.  You’re worth waiting for.’

She smiled and melted against him, soothed.  It was exactly what she had wanted to hear.

‘How about you eat something for me?’ she suggested.

‘Oh…I suppose I should,’ he said with mock reluctance.  ‘My lady would be rather put out with me if I starved to death.’

Hermione grinned, feeling a thrill up her spine-- _his lady_.  ‘Yes, she would.  She would also be pleased if you could see your way to brushing your teeth.’

‘Consider it done.’

He obediently followed when she rose, never taking his eyes off of her.  She flushed under the attention, but she had honestly never been happier.


	25. The Next Phase of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a talk with Ginny. Lucius takes the final exam for Muggle Studies, and he and Hermione have dinner as a couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: the end. I wrapped up as many loose ends as I could. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. :) This chapter contains the first sex scene I've ever actually posted, so even though I've revised it to the point where I'm personally happy with it, I'm still a bit nervous about how you'll all like it.... Fingers crossed!
> 
> Slight warning--there is some mild oral sex, in that it happens, but it's not very graphic.
> 
> Thank you all again for reading and commenting! :)

Life was bliss.  Hermione stayed the week-end, and while she laid out ground rules, she allowed Lucius to hold her hand and kiss her and be close to her when they were alone.  He was very sternly prohibited from touching her at Hogwarts, but he could live with that.

She was  _ his _ .   _ His _ .  Not fully, not until June, but she had promised herself to him.  Lucius couldn’t stop smiling, feeling incredibly light and cheerful.  She  _ loved him _ .  He was still more than a little dazed whenever he thought about it, awed and humbled by his good fortune in somehow winning her affection.

Narcissa and Andrew were amused but clearly happy for him, and they went back home after joining them all for breakfast on Saturday.  The only thing that marred Lucius’s mood at all was Draco.

Poor Draco remained miserably unhappy, though he tried to act normal for their sake, so as not to spoil their joy.  Both of them saw through the act, though, as Lucius discovered when Draco had gone off somewhere and Hermione brought it up.

‘I don’t know how we can help him,’ she said sadly.  ‘I wish I could figure out what’s holding Ginny back.’

‘She doesn’t love him,’ Lucius said blankly, thinking this was obvious.

Hermione smiled, patting his thigh.  ‘She does, she just doesn’t know if she wants to marry him.  I told you, she’s very confused.  She does love him, though.  She’s been a wreck ever since she said no, and she wouldn’t be this upset if at least a part of her didn’t want to marry him.’

He absorbed this, frowning.  ‘I wish you could figure out what her trouble is, too, then.  I don’t want either of them to be unhappy.’

‘Neither do I.’  She paused.  ‘I’ll try to talk to her this week, see if I can’t help her sort it out.  If she could verbalise it, maybe she could figure out what she really wants.’

‘If anyone can help her, you can,’ Lucius asserted confidently, and was rewarded with her cuddling up against him.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

‘Ginny, this  _ has _ to stop,’ Hermione said sharply.  ‘I’m tired of him moping.  I’m tired of  _ you _ moping.  Both of you want to be together, so  _ what _ is the problem?’

She was much harsher than she’d intended to be, but Ginny had made herself scarce as soon as she realised what Hermione wanted to talk about.  It had taken her two weeks to corner the erstwhile redhead.  Only Lucius’s commiseration (and accompanying foot massages) had kept her from hexing Ginny out of sheer frustration.

Ginny sat sulking on her sofa now, toying with the fraying corner of Hermione’s favourite cushion and refusing to look at her.  It had taken a combination of persistence on Hermione’s part and Mrs Weasley’s threat that  _ she _ could always be the one to talk to Ginny to get her over here.  She much preferred talking to Hermione about it to talking to her mother about it, which was what Hermione had been banking on when she brought Mrs Weasley in on the hunt.

‘I don’t know,’ Ginny said stubbornly, but Hermione knew her too well.

‘You’re lying,’ she snapped.  ‘You’ve had plenty of time to think about this.  What is the issue here?’

Ginny sank a little deeper into the sofa.  ‘I don’t want to get married, that’s all.’

Hermione fumed.  ‘Yes, we all got that--but  _ why _ ?  You’ve already said you have no political opinion about marriage, it’s a longstanding tradition in wizarding society, and you’ve shown no signs of feeling rebellious about the idea before now--I caught you writing “Mrs Ginny Potter” on your notes in school, remember?  So why does it suddenly bother you now?’

Ginny’s chin quivered.  ‘I just….’

She trailed off.  Hermione sighed, softening.  She knew this was hard, but it had gone on for far too long.  Still, she made an effort to quell the urge to start yelling, demanding answers.

‘I don’t want to stop being Ginny,’ she said finally, flushing with embarrassment.

Hermione blinked.  ‘Why would you stop being Ginny?’

She shrugged, ducking her head.

‘Ginny, being in love doesn’t mean you stop being who you are,’ Hermione said, enunciating slowly and carefully.  ‘Getting married doesn’t have to mean that, either.  In healthy marriages, neither person has to stop being who they are.  Sure, they might make little changes or compromises to make the relationship work, but nobody should be sacrificing their identity or sense of self in a  _ functional _ relationship.’  She paused, frowning as a thought occurred.  ‘Has Draco made you feel like you need to change?’

‘No!’ Ginny protested immediately, whipping around to look at her with hurt on Draco’s behalf.  ‘He likes me the way I am!  He says so all the time.’  She suddenly smiled, teary-eyed.  ‘Although I think he was lying about liking the way I smell after practise.  No one likes sweat and body odour and broom polish.  He just didn’t want me to feel bad about not having time to shower.’

Hermione smiled gently.  ‘Then there you go.  Draco doesn’t  _ want _ you to change.  Where did you get the idea that you had to change who you are after you get married?’

Ginny shifted unhappily.  ‘Well…Mum is always talking about all the things she used to do before she got married.  She used to be  _ fun _ !  Did you know she didn’t even  _ know _ how to knit before she married Dad?  She used to go to Quidditch matches with her brothers, and she was a three-time Gobstones champion at school!  Now all she does is cook and clean, and knit ugly jumpers, and worry her fool head that one of us is going to choke and die from laughing too hard, or some other silly nonsense….’

Hermione shook her head, her smile broadening.  ‘Oh, Ginny.  Do you really think your dad--your sweet dad, who worships the ground your mum walks on-- _ demanded _ that she become someone completely different?  Does that sound like something your dad would do?’

‘No,’ she admitted guiltily, averting her eyes to the fraying cushion again.

‘Your mum changed because she became a mother, not because she got married,’ Hermione explained kindly.  ‘And she became a mother because she  _ wanted _ to be a mother.  She and your father undoubtedly discussed it and planned it--well, at least the first time,’ she amended, grinning.  ‘They  _ wanted _ to have children--both of them.  And while I haven’t experienced it personally, I have it on good authority that having children seriously alters your priorities, if you’re even halfway decent of a parent, anyway.  My parents wanted to move to Australia before they had me, but they decided not to because they wanted my grandparents to be able to spend time with me before they passed on--and afterward, they waited because I was already established at school.

‘And look at Lucius!  He’s a self-proclaimed terrible father, and even he changed his priorities to accommodate Draco’s existence.  Do you think Lucius cared half as much about making sure pure-bloods stayed on top before Draco came along?  He told me himself that while he always cared, his obsession with it tripled after Draco was born, because he wanted to make sure Draco would have a secure future!  Before Draco, Lucius was set on being Minister for Magic someday.’

Ginny spluttered out a laugh.  ‘Seriously?!’

‘Yep.  He gave that up because he thought  _ Draco _ being Voldemort’s top man someday was a much better goal.’  She chuckled and shook her head.  ‘Your mum gave up going to Quidditch matches and being a Gobstones champion and all those other things because they weren’t important to her anymore--or at least not as important to her as raising her children and making sure they grew up well-fed, in a clean, cosy home, wearing ugly knitted jumpers,’ she added, grinning.  ‘I’m not saying she doesn’t have regrets, but  _ she _ chose to change who she was, not anyone else.  She did it because she loves your dad, and she loves all of you.  My point is, if you  _ do _ change after you get married, it’s not going to be because anyone forced you to, and you won’t stop being yourself.  You’re a different person now than you were when you were five, and you don’t feel like you’re not you, do you?’

Ginny shook her head, her eyes wide as she absorbed these ideas.

‘Then there you go.’  Hermione paused, drawing a much-needed breath.  ‘If you  _ really _ don’t want to marry Draco, that’s fine--go find someone else, or be single for a while.  Heal.  Move on.  But if you’re only refusing to marry him because you’re afraid that you’ll lose yourself, then I think you should quit worrying and ask Draco if the offer is still on the table.  Draco fell in love with you because of who you are; he’s not going to try to change you or mould you into someone you’re not.  If he wanted someone different, he would have moved on to dating someone else a long time ago.’

There was a moment of silence, and then Ginny launched herself at Hermione, squeezing her in a tight hug.

‘Thanks, Hermione,’ she sniffled.  ‘Why do you know everything?’

‘I’m amazing,’ Hermione said flippantly--or as flippantly as she could when her windpipe was being squished by Ginny’s shoulder--patting Ginny’s back.  ‘Now, I’m in a very important relationship with oxygen that I’d like to resume sometime soon, if you don’t mind.’

Ginny quickly let go, but didn’t move away, wiping her nose on her sleeve until Hermione rolled her eyes and handed her a handkerchief.

‘Sorry,’ she said thickly.

Hermione shrugged.  ‘Not a problem.’

Ginny mustered a watery smile.  ‘So I take it things are going well with Lucius?  We’ve barely seen either of you the last two Thursdays--as soon as dinner was over, you escaped to the library, it seems like.’

She felt her cheeks warming.  ‘Oh--oh, yes, things are going very well with Lucius, mm-hmm.’

That hadn’t come out  _ nearly _ as calmly and casually as she’d intended.

Ginny’s tentative smile turned into a full-fledged grin.  ‘Tell me!  What happened?’

Her face got hotter, and she tried not to smile, but it was a lost cause.  ‘Well.  He kissed me, according to him because he thought it was the only way to convince me not to go out with Gerard again, and we were spotted by a student, because of course we were.  I flipped out and screamed at him to leave.’

Ginny winced.  ‘Oooh, that had to hurt.’

‘Yes.  He spent the next three days refusing to move.  Meanwhile, I hunted down the student and secured her silence on the subject.  Then Narcissa Malf--I mean, Narcissa  _ Black _ turned up and played relationship counselor between us, straightening me out on what  _ Lucius _ thought had happened, because, as it turns out, he thought I was afraid of him and thought he was some kind of evil Death Eater monster, and he was intent on just lying there until he died,’ she said tightly, because the memory alone still made her throat try to close.  ‘Because apparently, he got it into his head from watching  _ Star Wars _ that the only way an evil person can redeem themselves is by dying.’

Ginny blinked.  ‘That’s awful!’

‘It’s more common in both Muggle and Wizarding stories than you think,’ Hermione said dryly.  ‘Anyway, after Narcissa told me what he was doing, I went to him and apologised for my reaction.  He wasn’t moved, so…I… _ may _ have confessed my feelings to him,’ she concluded, wincing slightly.

To her surprise, Ginny clapped her hands and let out a delighted squeal.

‘I thought you said that was a bad idea?’ she said, blinking in puzzlement.

‘Well, yeah, back when you thought he might still secretly hate you, but he kissed you first, so obviously he doesn’t!’ Ginny said excitedly.  ‘And you’re both adults, I’m assuming you can hold off on the sex until after his probation is over.  So you told him you love him, what happened then?’

Hermione couldn’t help the grin that blossomed on her face.  ‘He told me he loves me, too.’

Ginny probably squealed again, given her expression, but Hermione thought that probably only dogs could hear it.

‘Well, we talked about it, and we’re going to allow ourselves some kisses and cuddles--in private only, for now, of course--until the end of the school year, and we’re going to have our first official date on June 6, at seven o’clock at my flat,’ Hermione finished, grinning so hard she felt like her cheeks might split.

‘Oh, my gosh, I am so happy for you right now I don’t even know what to do with myself!!’ Ginny cried.  ‘Can I squish you again?!  Just for a minute!’

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded, and tolerated being squeezed in another hug for a full sixty seconds.

‘So what are you going to do about Draco, then?’ she asked when Ginny released her.

Ginny shrugged.  ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

They didn’t have to wait long.  The very next day, Ginny and Draco were, to all appearances, glued together at the hip, going around as one smiling, giggling, blissfully happy unit.  They announced that they were getting married in October, and the Weasley family went absolutely insane for several weeks as they caught wedding fever.  Hermione stayed far, far away from all of them for a while--not that it was in any way a problem for her to be at Malfoy Manor instead.  Lucius reported that Draco was still completely insufferable to be around, but in the total opposite direction, when she stopped by to have lunch with him one day.

‘He keeps humming some ridiculous love song I’d never heard before and never wish to hear again, and he drifts off into thinking about her right in the middle of a conversation,’ he groused.  ‘I actually smacked him yesterday to get his attention, and he didn’t even flinch, just said, “Oh, sorry, what were you saying?”  Never mind that  _ he _ was the one who’d been in the middle of saying something!  Please tell me  _ I’m _ not acting that daffy?’

Hermione laughed.  ‘Well, not around me, anyway, so I think you’re safe.  At least he’s happy, right?’

Lucius sighed.  ‘Right.’

But he continued to look so put-upon that Hermione decided that they needed to eat their lunch on the sofa, so they could have a good long cuddle in the limited time she had between classes.  Lucius latched onto the idea with a flattering amount of enthusiasm and practically dragged her out of the kitchen.

They also spent a gloriously uninterrupted break together during the Easter hols, as Ginny still insisted that Malfoy Manor was depressingly black, and Draco had no qualms about staying at her flat.  He packed a bag and left, whistling cheerfully, and Hermione Flooed through to her flat long enough to retrieve her own suitcase.  The hardest part was sleeping in separate rooms, but, to her surprise, Lucius was the strong one on that topic.

‘You’re not some easy floozy,’ he said, giving a haughty sniff.  ‘You deserve at least a proper date before I take you to bed.’

Hermione was disappointed, but touched and flattered that he held her in such high esteem that he was even denying himself, simply on principle--as he clearly was, if the number of cold showers he took, and the longing glances she received when she headed for her assigned room each evening, were any indication.  She tried her best not to tempt him, but even when she wore her frumpiest clothing, his expression was full of desire and he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her.  She couldn’t exactly blame him, as she was having a great deal of trouble restraining herself, as well--although he didn’t help matters, as he once emerged from taking a bath wearing only a towel, purely for the pleasure of watching her squirm and sit on her hands to keep from ripping the towel off, grinning wickedly at her the whole time.  He only retreated to get dressed when he was too cold to avoid it.

At long last, the Easter holidays were over, and they returned to their normal routine.  Hermione was more relieved than anything else, as she had been at the end of her rope by the end of the break.

Draco and Ginny resurfaced long enough to have dinner with them the next Saturday.  Lucius took the opportunity to casually mention that it might be easier for Draco to move out if he took all of his things at once, rather than one bag at a time--the bag at the beginning of break was not the first to disappear into Ginny’s flat and never return.

Draco turned red.  ‘I was going to tell you,’ he sputtered, shamefaced.

Ginny patted his hand.  ‘What he means to say is that we were planning to discuss that with you tonight,’ she said calmly.  ‘Along with the fact that we’ve begun house hunting.’

Hermione braced herself, but to her surprise, Lucius merely nodded thoughtfully.  A glance around the table proved that she wasn’t the only one surprised by that.

‘Spring is a good time of year for it,’ he said amiably.

Ginny’s brows rose, and she seemed to take his good-natured response as a sign that now was the time to dump all of the news on him at once.

‘Also, Hermione and I have spoken to my parents,’ she went on, with uncharacteristic delicacy.  ‘As it is currently nearly impossible for them to speak with you privately, even on Thursdays, my parents have asked me to inform you that you are most welcome in their home, and that they would be greatly pleased if you would join us on Tuesdays for dinner.’

Ginny and Draco cringed in anticipation of an explosion; Hermione only smiled.

Lucius looked deeply moved by this gesture of goodwill.  ‘Please relay my thanks,’ he said quietly.  ‘And tell them that I will be honoured to accept their kind invitation as soon as I am at liberty to do so.’

Draco and Ginny appeared slightly stunned for the remainder of the evening.

Time passed quickly, but not quickly enough.  Lucius had finished all of his homework for the rest of the term by the first week of April, but he continued to tweak and alter his final presentation, while Hermione did her best to haul the Goyles up to a passing grade.  He also had his follow-up exam and was declared fit, other than the continuing body temperature problem.  Draco and Ginny were scarce to be found, and the rest of the Weasleys were so proud that their little girl was getting married that they were all on cloud nine.  It also helped when Bill and Fleur had their baby, a girl, on May 2.

Luna and Rolf ended their attachment in early May, and Hermione noted with interest that Harry began spending more and more time by her side at the various gatherings and dinners.  Neville was silent on the subject, but as far as she could tell, he and the younger Goyle were still an item--at least, both of them turned red and tried not to smile when the other was casually mentioned, so that was a positive sign.  Ron seemed content to be single, searching for a flat now that his mother was amenable to the idea of him moving out.  It seemed that Victoire (the new baby girl) and the promise of more grandchildren in the near future had loosened her grip on her children just a little.

Hermione and Lucius took turns marking the days off on his calendar, waiting with barely contained anticipation for him to finally be free.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius gave his presentation on May 30, and barely mustered the patience to sit through the rest of the presentations that day and on Thursday.  He and Hermione had mutually agreed that they probably shouldn’t spend the week-end together, given their increasingly low self-control, so he spent most of the week-end pacing and pawing through his robes for something she hadn’t seen on him before.  He couldn’t remember all of them, though, so finally he settled on a tailored forest green robe she seemed to favour, as her eyes darkened every time she saw it on him and she couldn’t seem to resist touching him.  Well, more than usual.

Monday brought Draco’s birthday, and Lucius did his best to be cheerful and not annoying and fidgety during the overzealous celebrations (courtesy of the Weasley twins spiking the punch with some concoction of theirs, which Draco, Lucius, Harry and Hermione had wisely avoided).

At long, long,  _ long _ last, though, it was Tuesday.  Lucius arrived early, as was his wont, and was surprised to find Kingsley and an Auror he didn’t know waiting with Hermione.

‘I’m going to personally proctor your exam in Hermione’s office,’ Kingsley explained quickly when Lucius stopped and stared at them.  ‘Just in case there are any accusations of impropriety.  Mr Collins here will be assessing it as soon as you’re finished.’

‘Oh,’ Lucius said, nearly collapsing with relief.

He couldn’t remember violating any rules, but he’d still instinctively gone into panic mode anyway.  He followed them into Hermione’s office, trying to smile when she offered him a thumbs-up, and in a moment was settled at her desk with the exam and a Ministry-approved anti-cheating quill pen, trying to concentrate under Collins and Kingsley’s watchful eyes.  The minutes ticked by, and Lucius tried not to squirm or sweat.  He knew all of this information.  It would be fine, he told himself, but he didn’t believe himself.

He finished long before the two-hour mark, and that, too, made him anxious.  What if he’d missed something?  It seemed too easy--what if they’d been trick questions and he’d failed them all?  These thoughts kept him sweating and fidgeting while Collins read over his answers with a serious expression.

The man smiled when he looked up, though, and Lucius blew out an explosive breath, causing both Collins and Kingsley to chuckle.

‘Yes, you can relax now, Mr Malfoy,’ Collins assured him.  ‘You’ve secured an Outstanding on your exam.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucius said faintly, and sat in the nearest chair before he could fall.

No Azkaban.  _ No Azkaban _ , ever again.

He blinked hard and cleared his throat a few times, feeling suddenly choked up.  Neither man commented, thankfully.

Collins passed the exam over to Kingsley and excused himself; Kingsley pulled out a thick folder and began thumbing through it, grunting to himself every now and then.  At last, he put the exam in the folder and snapped it shut.

‘And you’ve passed Muggle Studies with an Outstanding as well,’ he said, smiling.  ‘So, as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I am authorised to inform you that your probation is officially over as of now.  All restrictive wards will be removed from your property, and I will inform your son that he may return your wand to you.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucius repeated breathlessly, a bit dizzy with the relief of hearing it.

Kingsley chuckled again.  ‘You’re welcome.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr Malfoy, I’ve got some work to do.’

Lucius inclined his head and Kingsley left.  He couldn’t seem to get up out of the chair just yet, as his legs had gone rather shaky on him.  He was still sitting there when Hermione entered, her expression growing immediately concerned when she spotted him.

‘Hi,’ he said sheepishly.

She shut the door and crossed to his side, kneeling between his legs, her hands moving to check his temperature and his pulse.

‘I’m fine,’ he assured her.  ‘Just…weak with relief.’

‘Relief?’  She pulled back slightly, grinning.  ‘Then you passed?  Of course you passed.  I knew you would.’

He nodded unsteadily.  ‘An Outstanding, across the board.  And my probation is over.  No more passes to go out, no more Azkaban.’

He grew a little stronger just saying the words, straightening his spine, and the rest of his strength returned when Hermione chose to congratulate him by craning her neck and kissing him deeply.  He grinned a bit goofily when she pulled away, but she didn’t seem to mind, grinning back at him.

‘Well,’ he said at last, rising when she stood and moved aside.  ‘I have to go home and retrieve my wand.  And also, I have a hot date to prepare for tonight.’

Hermione blushed most becomingly.  ‘Oh, yes?  Is she pretty?’ she fished.

Lucius hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her close with a growl.  ‘She is quite possibly the most divine creature ever to set foot on the face of the earth,’ he obliged her, dropping kisses along her cheekbone, exalting in his ability to do so without restraint this time.  ‘I can hardly breathe when I see her.  Therefore, I must work extra hard on my appearance so she won’t be ashamed to be seen with me, should any of her friends unexpectedly drop by,’ he added practically.

She giggled, swatting his shoulder.  ‘Oh, you.  Fine, go get your wand.  Oh, and hex Draco once for me, will you?’

He smirked.  ‘Not a problem.’

To his surprise, Draco was waiting in the entrance hall when he got home.  In his hand was Lucius’s cane, complete with wand.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’ he demanded.

Draco shrugged.  ‘Kingsley stopped by and told me the good news, so I figured it would be cruel to make you wait any longer for this,’ he said, extending the cane.

Lucius snatched it and pulled the wand out, kissing it several times.  ‘Ah, there you are.  Did you miss me?  I missed you,’ he cooed at it.

It had certainly missed him, despite their very brief acquaintance previous to his probation, if the green sparks it shot out in response were any indication.

Draco rolled his eyes.  ‘Are you seriously talking to your wand?’

Lucius petted the wand.  ‘Don’t listen to him.  He’s just jealous because I love you more.’

Draco snorted out a laugh.  ‘Okay, well, before I leave you two alone for some, uh,  _ private time _ , I have something for you.’

‘Wha--?’

He broke off, blinking at the brightly-wrapped package.

Draco grinned cheekily.  ‘Happy birthday, old man.’

Lucius raised a brow at him and reluctantly accepted the package, cautiously ripping the wrapping.

‘It won’t bite, I promise,’ said Draco, laughing.

He ripped off the rest of the paper and rolled his eyes at the mug, unable to stop himself from smiling.  It read ‘Not the Worst Dad Ever.’

‘Gee, thanks,’ he chuckled.

‘I couldn’t find one, but I had it made,’ Draco said proudly.  ‘So now you won’t forget.’

‘Brilliant.  Thank you.’

Draco just shot him another cheeky grin and made to prance from the room.  Lucius had no compunctions whatsoever about shooting a Leg-Locker after him.

‘ _ Hey _ !’ Draco cried from the hall.

Lucius smiled to himself and sheathed his wand in its cane holder with a flourish.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

At precisely seven o’clock, Lucius stood before Hermione’s door.  He had considered Flooing over, but considered that to be slightly tacky, given that this was supposed to be a date, and he had opted to get there by other means instead.  This had involved demanding to know Hermione’s exact address from Harry, and then, since he didn’t know any of the Apparation points in the area (if there were any), he Apparated to a spot as close as he could and took a cab from there (which he had planned for ahead of time by procuring some Muggle money from Harry).  It made him feel rather accomplished, so he was quite smug and pleased with himself when he knocked.

Hermione opened the door and did a double-take, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

‘I didn’t expect you to arrive this way!’ she said breathlessly.

‘These are for you,’ he said, producing the bouquet he’d purchased.

Hermione turned that becoming shade of red again and took them.  ‘Come in.  I’ll get a vase for these,’ she said with uncharacteristic shyness.

Lucius obediently followed her inside, openly looking around to study her décor while she puttered in the kitchen, searching for a vase.  There actually wasn’t much in the way of decoration--there were a few pictures of her cat and her friends scattered here and there, mostly on end tables or the coffee table.  The wall space was taken up entirely by bookcases, save for two windows, and every bookcase was packed full, and there were still books stacked and strewn around the room.  It was, he realised, too small a space for her.  Her book collection had outgrown the tiny flat, if nothing else.

Crookshanks came over and rubbed himself against Lucius’s leg, begging for a quick ear rub.  Lucius obliged, and then grimaced when he realised that the dastardly cat had left a clump of orange hair on his trouser leg.

‘You’re fortunate I’m a wizard, cat,’ he said with mock sternness as he vanished the mess.

Crookshanks merely flicked his tail and continued on his way.

Hermione finally emerged, smiling brightly, and set the flowers in the middle of her table, replacing the fake flowers she’d had as a centerpiece.  The table was set for two, and she had lit tapered candles.  Lucius smiled, thinking that there was no way this could not be perfect.

He was mostly right.  They quickly fell into their normal patterns of conversation, and the food was delicious (naturally).  Hermione cheerfully told him that every student had passed her class--even, miraculously enough, the Goyles.  It only got awkward after dessert, as Hermione kept fidgeting and eyeing the door to what must have been her bedroom.  She didn’t seem to know how to proceed.  Lucius wanted to help her, but he was rather at a loss as well.  Since his first marriage had been arranged, there had been no shy, awkward flirtations on their first date, and they were both fine with waiting until the wedding night to engage in any other activities.

Lucius was  _ not _ fine with waiting until he married her to have Hermione.  He had every intention of marrying her, and that would have to be enough.

‘Hermione,’ he said finally, using the soft, deep tone that never failed to grab her attention.

Sure enough, her eyes snapped to him and she swallowed convulsively.  Lucius took her hand, feeling her slight trembling.

Okay, or maybe he  _ was _ fine with waiting, if Hermione needed him to.

‘We don’t have to do anything, if you’re not ready,’ he said gently.  ‘It’s been a lovely night.  We can leave it at that, if you’d like.’

She shook her head quickly.  ‘No, I want you to stay!  I….’  She blushed and bit her lip.  ‘I just couldn’t figure out how to ask you if you’d like to adjourn to the bedroom without sounding like a harlot,’ she admitted sheepishly.

Lucius laughed, caught off-guard.  ‘That was just perfect.  You could never sound like a harlot.’

She ducked her head, or tried to, but Lucius caught her chin with his finger and drew her toward him.

He decided that he would remember  _ this _ kiss as their first and forget about all the ones that came before.  She was immediately responsive, her arms snaking around his neck, and he could feel the moment that she lit with desire, her body tensing against his, pouring her passion into him.  His own breathing picked up, and he broke off the kiss to lead her to the bedroom before he lost control of himself.  She deserved to have her first time be in a bed, not on a sofa.  She followed without resistance, clinging to his hand with both of hers.

He didn’t take the time to scope out his surroundings this time, just kicked the door shut and turned back to the business of making love to her.  If he’d still been in doubt of her affections before, she left him no room for doubt now, kissing him deeply and frequently between attempting to remove his clothing with trembling fingers.

He found himself having similar troubles, his hands shaking as he tried to get her out of the lovely pink evening gown she’d donned for the occasion.  Much as he admired it, and how it hugged her in all the right places, it had to go.

Hermione was successful before he was, and he involuntarily groaned as soon as her fingers touched his bare skin, jerking slightly at the shock of it.  Her hands had always been soft and warm and perfect, and now they proved they were skilled, too, as they lightly skimmed and teased across his chest, down his stomach, finally resting at the waist of his trousers.

He redoubled his efforts to get her out of the dress, and finally had some success.  Her bra went much more easily.  She gasped, temporarily derailed, when he cupped one of her breasts--but it was his turn to be derailed from his purpose when he touched the scar that ran alongside it.  Lucius stopped cold and lightly traced the end of it.

She had two such scars, both from Dolohov.  One, older, fading with time, came up crookedly between her breasts, meandering toward the left and stopping a few inches short of her collarbone.  The other was newer, shiny and pink and rough on the edges, making a nearly straight line up to her shoulder.  He could see her, bloody and unconscious as he tried frantically to save her, and his throat tightened.

Hermione’s hand covered his, redirecting his attention.

‘They don’t hurt,’ she said softly.

Lucius didn’t have any words, so he put his apology into a kiss, making his way from her mouth to her throat, down to the older scar from the Department of Mysteries.  He slid her dress down as he followed the scar downward.  She gasped again when his tongue flicked across her stomach, right where her ribcage ended, and he lingered there for a moment longer, his own desire flaring as he felt her breathing pick up.

‘Lucius,’ she suddenly choked out, wrapping a lock of his hair around her fingers and tugging upward.

He obediently rose, but before he could inquire if she was all right, she was back to attacking his trousers.  He couldn’t help a little grin at her eagerness.

Hermione caught him grinning and pouted.  ‘Don’t laugh at me!’ she protested jokingly.  ‘It’s not my fault you’ve never heard of zippers.’

He chuckled and helped her with the last of the buttons.  He was almost instantly rewarded; she shoved his trousers and boxers down in one move and got on her knees, and then she was touching him, and it was fortunate that the bed was right behind him, because his legs buckled.  He’d known that she had some experience with what he considered foreplay, thanks to Ron and Viktor, but he hadn’t been fully prepared for how practised she was.  She was also very adaptable, because she had soon adjusted her style to suit him, somehow picking up on his cues even though he was trying to keep still and quiet.

Lucius yelped in surprise when her mouth closed around the tip, though, his whole body jerking.

She immediately released him and raised her head.  ‘Is that not okay?’ she asked nervously.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he panted, gripping the edge of the bed.  ‘I just wasn’t prepared.  I didn’t know you…did that.’

Hermione shrugged.  ‘Not often.  Never with Ron, since he wouldn’t prove to me that he was clean.  A few times with Viktor, but it wasn’t very enjoyable for me, so he didn’t request it very often.’

Lucius frowned, reaching out to trace her jawline with a trembling hand.  ‘I don’t want you to do anything you don’t enjoy doing.’

She pursed her lips, her eyes unfocusing as she pondered.  ‘It’s different with you,’ she said finally.  ‘I don’t know if I’ll like it, but I’d like to try, if you’ll let me.’

He was hardly going to refuse!  ‘Be my guest,’ he said, smiling.

She smiled back and turned to examine his hardened length.  He briefly wondered how he compared with her two former lovers, but she seemed well pleased, if the covetous look on her face was any indication, and soon he wasn’t able to think much at all, his brain temporarily going offline when Hermione returned to her intended activity.  She was good at that, too, and the fact that it was  _ her _ , that she was doing this for him, without being asked, was a heady feeling.  He was enjoying himself very much.

Maybe a little  _ too _ much.

‘Stop, stop, stop,’ he forced through his lust-fogged brain.

Hermione desisted right away, sitting back on her heels and wiping her mouth.  ‘Are you okay?  Did I do it badly?’

He laughed breathlessly.  ‘No, my love, you did it just perfect,’ he panted.  ‘But I’m not twenty anymore, and I can’t guarantee that I’ll be up for…more if you make me…you know…right now,’ he explained, embarrassed.  ‘At least not for a while.’

She blinked at him curiously.  ‘You mean if I make you orgasm?’ she said evenly, not a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

He choked a little, but nodded.  He could  _ do _ the deeds, but he’d never been very comfortable with using the words….  It had disappointed Narcissa occasionally, as she’d enjoyed dirty talk in bed once in a while.

Hermione grinned.  ‘Awww, are you shy?’ she teased.

‘The acts are beautiful,’ Lucius sniffed disdainfully, ‘the words are…not.’

She gave a delighted giggle and raised up to her knees again, settling between his thighs.

‘That is so cute,’ she said cheerfully.  ‘I think I’m going to have to have another kiss.’

‘Glad to oblige,’ he said, and did.

He was gratified to see that there wasn’t a trace of amusement left on her face when he pulled away, just desire.  Desire for  _ him _ .  His head still spun a bit at the idea.

‘Join me up here,’ he said huskily.

Hermione gladly clambered up on the bed beside him, kicking off her shoes as she went.

‘All the way naked?’ she asked, looking slightly giddy at the idea.

‘I’m nearly there anyway, so why not?’

She let out a little excited squeal and began wriggling out of her panties and nylons.  Lucius watched her with keen interest, bending down briefly to remove his shoes and socks, and toss them and his trousers and boxers aside.  Her abdominal muscles rippled in a most fascinating way as she wriggled around, and soon he couldn’t resist helping her, eliciting a surprised laugh from her.

She lay there panting, staring up at him with a rather dazed smile and dancing eyes as he studied her, smoothing a hand across the flat of her stomach.  She was studying him, too, but at the moment he didn’t care at all what she thought of his body, too entranced with hers to feel self-conscious about his age and lack of condition (although he’d been regaining some, slowly, ever since he was permitted to access his gardens and since Hermione had been keeping him so well fed).

‘Oh, my God, you’re perfect,’ he ground out, and moved to her.

Her skin was every bit as creamy and soft as he’d imagined in his dreams, but he couldn’t have anticipated the taste of her, the smell of her.  He was enveloped in mahogany and old books, and all he could taste was her--she didn’t taste like anything else he’d ever tasted before, and the more he had of her, the more he wanted.  He registered that she was touching him, too, her fingers leaving trails of fire on his skin as she explored, drawing a muffled moan from him.

By the time he settled between her knees, nudging them apart, she was breathing heavily and moaning from time to time, looking at him with very dark eyes, balling her hands around the bedspread now that she couldn’t reach him to go on petting and exploring him.

He offered her a shaky smile to reassure her, but he didn’t think he could speak now if his life depended on it.  She just went on watching him, so he took that as permission and dipped his head down.  She let out a very high-pitched noise as soon as he made contact, but she didn’t try to stop him, actually spreading her legs a little wider to encourage him.  He was  _ very _ encouraged, and got a hand in on the act now that he could fit his arm up, although his elbow dug rather uncomfortably into her leg.  It was worth it, though, because it wasn’t long before he had her toes curling, arching and rocking her hips and making guttural noises he wouldn’t have expected from her.

She tasted divine.

When she reached her peak, Lucius crawled up her body and lay alongside, propping his head up on his hand and watching her, letting her recover.

She blinked at him foggily.  ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said hoarsely.

He shrugged a little.  ‘I wanted to.’

This statement earned him another kiss, this one a bit rough and sloppy, but enthusiastic and passionate for all that.  She flopped back down, panting hard, and he lovingly wiped some of the sweat from her brow with his thumb.

‘Ron and Viktor wouldn’t do that,’ she said after a while.  ‘They would use their fingers, but they said it would be gross to use their mouths.’

Lucius snorted.  ‘The stupidity of youth.  You taste wonderful.’

She blushed hard, and now that she was naked, he could see that her blush extended all the way to the tops of her perfect breasts.

‘And it’s only gross if it’s not clean,’ he added.  ‘Or if it’s… _ ahem _ .’

He felt his face heat a little at the thought, and Hermione grinned, some of the fog lifting.

‘You mean if it’s that time of the month?’ she asked teasingly.

‘Um…yes.’

She giggled.  ‘I wouldn’t want you down there if that was the case anyway.  I don’t feel like having any kind of sexual activity when I’m on my period.’

‘Oh, good,’ he said, relieved.

She slid her hand up his stomach to toy with his nipple, and he gasped involuntarily.

‘I’m ready if you are,’ she said, smiling coyly.

If he hadn’t been ready, he would have been then, as desire exploded through him at the statement, lighting his nerve endings.  He chose to answer her with a deep kiss, rolling onto her.

‘Ouch,’ she said when he pulled away.  ‘Your knee is--’

‘Oh, sorry.’  He quickly readjusted.  ‘Better?’

She nodded and they were able to resume.  She went completely rigid, whimpering, when he reached a hand down to her slickened core, his thumb rolling over her clit.

‘All right?’ he asked softly.

Hermione nodded quickly, but couldn’t seem to speak.  He accepted her answer and resumed, scissoring his fingers within her.  He wanted her as stretched and lubricated as possible before he even attempted to enter her--he’d never been with a virgin, but he’d heard the first time could be painful without proper preparations.

That was a thought.  ‘You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?’ he asked, but didn’t really expect her to say no.

‘Yes,’ she said breathily.  ‘Gerard and I never touched.’

His desire ratcheted up several more degrees, and he had to mentally recite the Greek alphabet to keep from losing control of himself.  He didn’t want to hurt her, so he had to maintain at least some measure of control.

Finally, Hermione grew impatient.  ‘Inside me, please?’ she begged, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips.

‘All right, shhh,’ he soothed her.

She was prepared enough, he thought.  He carefully guided himself into the correct alignment, tentatively pushing forward.  She hissed in a breath and clutched at him, but there was no pain in her face, at least not yet.  They fit together just right, Lucius realised, a flutter of joy flashing through his chest.  He inched forward, slowly and carefully, watching her face for any signs of discomfort.

She flinched briefly when he broke through her hymen, but the pain almost immediately faded and she urged him on.  Lucius obliged her, moving a little more quickly.

At long last, he was fully seated within her, and he moaned softly, pressing his forehead against hers, resting briefly, savouring the moment.  She was all around him, her body and her scent and her love enveloping him.  It was like being inside her mind again, wrapped in her warm golden light, and he felt just as perfectly safe and welcome and at home as he had when nestled in her mental library.

Hermione held him a little tighter, sighing contentedly, and he knew without asking that she felt the same.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Lucius was curled around Hermione, his eyes closed as he drifted.  He was tired, but not tired enough to sleep.  Mostly, he was content just to lie there, his nose buried in Hermione’s wild curls, basking in the afterglow.  He couldn’t tell if she wanted to sleep or not; she was idly running her fingers back and forth through the hairs on the arm he had settled around her waist.

He knew she was thinking about something, but he wasn’t worried yet.  She had been very vocally pleased with the whole experience, and even more vocally pleased with Lucius in particular.  If she had a complaint, he was certain she would have voiced it before now.

‘Lucius?’ she said softly.

‘Hmm?’

‘Happy birthday.’

His eyes opened.  He’d quite forgotten that already.

‘Oh,’ he said blankly.  ‘Thank you.’

‘I have something for you.’

He forced himself to move, to sit up enough to look at her face.  She was smiling.

He frowned.  ‘Something besides what you just gave me?’

Hermione chuckled.  ‘That was for both of us.  This is your  _ birthday _ present.’

She slid out of his grasp and stiffly scurried across the room, digging a package out of a drawer before scurrying to climb back under the covers with him.  He immediately pulled her close again, missing her warmth even for those brief seconds.

‘Go on,’ she urged, grinning.

Lucius reluctantly took the package and ripped it open.  And then he stared at it.

Slowly, he started to grin.

‘The  _ Millennium Falcon _ ?!’ he cried.  ‘How did you know?’

He tore into the box while Hermione laughed.

‘A hunch,’ she said lightly.  ‘The fact that you whispered “Wicked” every time you saw it on the screen was a bit of a hint that maybe you’d like to have a model of it.’

He admired it for a while once he had it loose, but finally remembered that he should probably thank her and kissed her briefly.

‘Thank you, my love,’ he said brightly.  ‘That’s much better than Draco’s present.’

Hermione raised a brow.  ‘Oh, dear.  What did he get you?  A poster that says “Ginny Weasley rocks my world”?’

He snorted.  ‘No, although I wouldn’t put it past him to give us  _ all _ something Ginny-related at Christmas.  He got me a mug that proclaims that I am not, in fact, the worst dad ever.’

She stared at him for a moment before sputtering out a laugh.  ‘Well, that’s different.’

‘It’s my own fault,’ Lucius admitted wryly.  ‘I suggested it.’

She giggled again, shaking her head, and watching her eyes dance, seeing her beautiful smile, feeling her gorgeous body pressed up against him, one of her hands affectionately stroking back and forth on his stomach, all of his carefully laid plans flew out the window.

His amusement faded and he stared at her intently.  Her expression grew puzzled as she sensed his shifting mood, but she didn’t tense or flee, or show any sign of nerves or fear, just curiosity and concern.

She was perfect, and she loved him, and he wanted to wake up to her every morning for the rest of his life.

‘Hermione, will you marry me?’ he asked quietly, simply.

No speeches, no theatrical gestures, just offering her his heart on a platter.  He waited.

Hermione’s hesitation was brief, borne more of surprise than anything else, and then, after that frozen moment, she smiled--the brightest smile Lucius had ever seen on her face, shining with love and pure joy.

He could breathe again, and returned the smile, relieved and happy and madly, hopelessly in love.

‘Of course I will,’ she said, just as quietly, just as simply.

Lucius kissed her, because words were inadequate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for joining me on this little journey! I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. :)


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